Shepherd entered his father’s office as he always did, nervous and
apprehensive.
“Well, Father, how’s everything with you today?” he asked with feigned
ease.
“All right, Shep,” Mills replied pleasantly as he continued signing
letters. “Everything all right at the plant?”
“Everything running smoothly, Father.”
“That’s good.” Mills applied the blotter to the last signature and rang
for the stenographer. When the young woman had taken the letters away
Mills filled in the assignment on the back of the certificate of stock
in the Rogers Company which Carroll had brought him that morning and
pushed it across the desk.
“You seem to have sold your two hundred shares in the Rogers Trust,
Shep--the two hundred you got from your mother’s estate.”
“Why, yes, Father,” Shepherd stammered, staring at the certificate.
There was no evidence of irritation in his father’s face; one might
have thought that Mills was mildly amused by something.
“You had a perfect right to dispose of it, of course. I’m just a trifle
curious to know why you didn’t mention it to me. It seemed just a
little--a little--unfriendly, that’s all.”
“No, Father; it wasn’t that!” Shepherd replied hastily.
It had not occurred to him that his father would discover the sale so
soon. While he hadn’t in so many words asked Gurley to consider the
transaction a confidential matter, he thought he had conveyed that idea
to the broker. He felt the perspiration creeping out on his face; his
hands trembled so that he hid them in his pockets. Mills, his arms on
the desk, was playing with a glass paper weight.
“How much did Gurley give you for it?” he asked.
“I sold it at two seventy-five,” Shepherd answered. The air of the
room seemed weighted with impending disaster. An inexorable fate had
set a problem for him to solve, and his answers, he knew, exposed his
stupidity. It was like a nightmare in which he saw himself caught in a
trap without hope of escape.
“It’s worth five hundred,” said Mills with gentle indulgence. “But
Gurley, in taking advantage of you, blundered badly. I bought it
from him at three eighteen. And just to show you that I’m a good
sport”--Mills smiled as he reflected that he had never before applied
the phrase to himself--“I’m going to sell it back to you at the price
Gurley paid you. And here’s a blank check,--we can close the matter
right now.”
Mills pretended to be looking over some papers while Shepherd wrote
the check, his fingers with difficulty moving the pen. A crisis was at
hand; or was it a crisis? His fear of his father, his superstitious
awe of Franklin Mills’s supernatural prescience numbed his will. The
desk seemed to mark a wide gulf between them. He had frequently
rehearsed, since his talk with Constance, the scene in which he would
defend the building of the clubhouse for the battery employees; but
he was unprepared for this discovery of his purpose. He had meant to
seize some opportunity, preferably when he could drive his father to
the battery plant and show him the foundations of the clubhouse, for
disclosing the fact that he was going ahead, spending his own money.
It hadn’t occurred to him that Gurley might sell the stock to his
father. He had made a mess of it. He felt himself cowering, weak and
ineffectual, before another of those velvety strokes with which his
father was always able to defeat him.
“You’d better go in early tomorrow and get a new certificate; they’re
closing the transfer books. The Rogers is merging with the Central
States--formal announcement will be made early in the new year. The
combination will make a powerful company. The Rogers lately realized
very handsomely on some doubtful securities that had been charged off
several years ago. It was known only on the inside. Gurley thought he
was making a nice turn for himself, but you see he wasn’t so clever
after all!”
Shepherd shrank further into himself. It was he who was not clever!
He hoped to be dismissed like a presumptuous schoolboy caught in an
attempt to evade the rules. Franklin Mills, putting aside the crystal
weight, had taken up the ivory paper knife and was drawing it slowly
through his shapely, well-kept hands.
“I suppose it’s none of my business, Shep, but just why did you sell
that stock? It was absolutely safe; and I thought that as it came to
you from your mother, and her father had been one of the original
incorporators, you would have some sentiment about keeping it. You’re
not embarrassed in any way, are you? If you’re not able to live within
your income you ought to come to me about it. You can hardly say that I
haven’t always stood ready to help when you ran short.”
“Well, no, Father; it wasn’t that. The fact is--well, to tell the
truth----”
Mills was always annoyed by Shepherd’s stammering. He considered it
a sign of weakness in his son; something akin to a physical blemish.
Shepherd frowned and with a jerk of the head began again determinedly,
speaking slowly.
“I wanted to build that clubhouse for the factory people. I felt that
they deserved it. You refused to help; I couldn’t make you understand
how I felt about it. I meant to build it myself--pay for it with my
own money. So I sold my Rogers stock. I thought after I got the thing
started you wouldn’t object. You see----”
Shepherd’s eyes had met his father’s gaze, bent upon him coldly, and he
ceased abruptly.
“Oh, that’s why you sold! My dear boy, I’m surprised and not a little
grieved that you should think of doing a thing like that. It’s not--not
quite----”
“Not quite straight!” Shepherd flung the words at him, a gleam of
defiance in his eyes. “Well, all right! We’ll say it wasn’t square. But
I did it! And you’ve beaten me. You’ve shown me I’m a fool. I suppose
that’s what I am. I don’t see things as you do; I wanted to help those
people--give them a little cheer--brighten their lives--make them more
contented! But you couldn’t see that! You don’t care for what I think;
you treat me as though I were a stupid child. I’m only a figurehead at
the plant. When you ask me questions about the business you do it just
to check me up--you’ve already got the answers from Fields. Oh, I know
it! I know what a failure I am!”
He had never before spoken so to his father. Amazed that he had gotten
through with it, he was horror struck. He sank back in his chair,
waiting for the sharp reprimand, the violent retort he had invited.
It would have been a relief if his father had broken out in a violent
tirade. But Mills had never been more provokingly calm.
“I’m sorry, Shep, that you have this bitterness in your heart.” Mills’s
tone was that of a man who has heard forbearingly an unjust accusation
and proceeds patiently to justify himself. “I wouldn’t have you think I
don’t appreciate your feeling about labor; that’s fine. But I thought
you accepted my reasons for refusing. I’ve studied these things for
years. I believe in dealing justly with labor, but we’ve got to be
careful about mixing business and philanthropy. If you’ll just think
it over you’ll see that for yourself. We’ve got to be sensible. I’m
old-fashioned, I suppose, in my way of thinking, but----”
His deprecatory gesture was an appeal to his son to be merciful to a
sire so hopelessly benighted. Shepherd had hardly taken in what his
father said. Once more it was borne in upon him that he was no match
for his father. His anger had fallen upon Franklin Mills as impotently
as a spent wave breaking upon a stone wall.
“Well, I guess that’s all,” he said faintly.
“One thing more, Shep. There’s another matter I want to speak of.
It’s occurred to me the past year that you are not happy at the
battery plant. Frankly, I don’t believe you’re quite adapted to an
industrial career. The fact is you’re just a little too sensitive,
too impressionable to deal with labor.” Mills smiled to neutralize
any sting that might lurk in the remark. “I think you’d be happier
somewhere else. Now I want someone to represent me in the trust company
after the merger goes into effect. Carroll is to be the vice-president
and counsel, perhaps ultimately the president. Fleming did much to
build up the Rogers and he will continue at the head of the merged
companies for the present. But he’s getting on in years and is anxious
to retire. Eventually you and Carroll will run the thing. I never meant
for you to stay in the battery plant--that was just for the experience.
Fields will take your place out there. It’s fitting that you should be
identified with the trust company. I’ve arranged to have you elected a
vice-president when we complete the reorganization next month--a fine
opportunity for you, Shep. I hope this meets with your approval.”
Shepherd nodded a bewildered, grudging assent. This was the most
unexpected of blows. In spite of the fact that his authority at the
battery plant was, except as to minor routine matters, subordinate to
that of Fields, he enjoyed his work. He had made many friends among the
employees and found happiness in counseling and helping them in their
troubles. He would miss them. To go into a trust company would mean
beginning a new apprenticeship in a field that in no way attracted him.
He felt humiliated by the incidental manner of his dismissal from one
place and appointment to another.
His father went on placidly, speaking of the bright prospects of the
trust company, which would be the strongest institution of the kind in
the State. There were many details to be arranged, but the enlargement
of the Rogers offices to accommodate the combined companies was already
begun, and Shepherd was to be ready to make the change on the first
of February. Before he quite realized it his father had glided away
from the subject and was speaking of social matters--inquiring about a
reception someone was giving the next night. Shepherd picked up his hat
and stared at it as though not sure that it belonged to him. His father
walked round the desk and put out his hand.
“You know, Shep, there’s nothing I have so much at heart as the welfare
of my children. You married the girl you wanted; I’ve given you this
experience in the battery company, which will be of value to you in
your new position, and now I’m sure you’ll realize my best hopes for
you in what I believe to be a more suitable line of work. I want you
always to remember it of me that I put the happiness of my children
before every other consideration.”
“Yes, Father.”
Shepherd passed out slowly through the door that opened directly into
the hall and, still dazed, reached the street. He wandered about,
trying to remember where he had parked his car. The city in which he
was born had suddenly become strange to him. He dreaded going home and
confessing to Constance that once more he had been vanquished by his
father. Constance would make her usual effort to cheer him, laugh a
little at the ease with which his father had frustrated him; tell him
not to mind. But her very good humor would be galling. He knew what she
would think of him. He must have time to think before facing Constance.
If he went to the club it would be to look in upon men intent upon
their rhum or bridge, who would give him their usual abstracted
greeting. They cared nothing for him: he was only the son of a wealthy
father who put him into jobs where he would do the least harm!