Mr. Gorham studied Allen carefully during dinner. What Eleanor had told
him of the boy interested him, and his intimate knowledge of Stephen
Sanford's personality made him a more sympathetic adviser than might
otherwise have been the case. Allen, too, was distinctly attracted by
Gorham, though his eyes rested more often on the girl facing him across
the small table, who seemed even more lovely to him now, in a soft,
clinging gown of exquisite texture. His memory of Gorham had been
indistinct, but he had heard so much of him through his father and
others during these intervening years that he was prepared to see a man
who would intimidate him by his severity and awe him by the
manifestation of his greatness. In fact, associating business success
with his father's manners and methods, Allen had come to believe that
force meant noise and bluster, and that firmness stood for an
intolerance of discussion. But here, in the midst of his family, Robert
Gorham displayed a side of his nature which Stephen Sanford had never
seen; yet Allen was no less conscious of the man's power. The boy was
more quick to sense than he was to analyze, and it was not until he had
left the Gorhams, some hours later, that he was able to satisfy his
silent query as to what was reminiscent in the strength behind Gorham's
genial face and cordial bearing. The thought took him back to his
college days, and the course in ancient history which, strange to say,
he had enjoyed most of all--to the old-time Roman emperors, born to
command, and indifferent to the criticism or the commendation of the
world in which they labored, made up of the lesser men they dominated.
The conversation at the dinner-table soon turned to Allen's experiences
in Europe, and his naive manner of telling about them afforded no little
amusement.
"I like everything in London except the telephone," he explained. "It's
easy enough to blow in the hot air, but it takes a whole lot of
experience on the flute to make the proper connections with your
fingers. And to get a number--well, it's a joke, that's what it is."
"Is it really worse than our service?" asked Alice.
"Worse? Why, ours is a direct line without a switchboard compared with
theirs. I gave it up altogether after my experience trying to get Crecy
& Brown--you know them, Mr. Gorham. I dropped into the office of one of
the pater's correspondents and asked to use their telephone. One of the
clerks offered to help me out, and I let him.
"'I say, miss,' began the clerk, 'put me through to Crecy & Brown, will
you?' Then a few moments went by. 'Oh! thank you very much,' was his
reply, and he restored the receiver noisily to its position on the rack.
'They have no telephone,' he said.
"I looked at him a moment, then I said as calmly as I could, 'and yet
they say the English are slow.'
"'Do they?' he replied, good-naturedly. 'I don't think I quite follow
you.'
"'Why, they have taken that telephone out since four o'clock yesterday
afternoon. In America it would have required several days.'
"'Oh, you're joking,' he laughed; 'they couldn't have taken it out since
then, you know.'
"'But they have,' I said, boldly, making a noise like the pater. 'I
called them up myself at that time yesterday.'
"Then he rang the central office again. 'I say, miss, the gentleman is
really positive that Crecy & Brown have a telephone, you know.'
"Some more minutes passed by, and again the clerk said, 'Oh, thank you
very kindly,' and he put the receiver back.
"'They have no telephone,' he said.
"'There you are,' I cried, 'it has been taken out since four o'clock
yesterday afternoon. It's simply wonderful!'
"'You Americans are such bally jokers,' the clerk said. 'They really
couldn't have done that, you know.'
"'But they have! I still insist.'
"Then the Englishman went into a trance for a moment. 'I believe you
think they have a telephone, after all,' he declared.
"'I really do,' I admitted.
"'Well, we'll soon find out,' the clerk cried, with an awful burst of
speed, striking a bell upon his desk.
"'George,' he said to the boy, 'run around to Crecy & Brown's, will you,
and see if they have a telephone.'
"I sat there for twenty minutes, discussing the weather, the Derby
winner, and all the other favorite English subjects before the boy came
back.
"'Yes, sir,' the boy reported, 'Crecy & Brown have a telephone, sir.
Their number is 485 Gerard, sir.'
"The clerk got me the number this time, and I did fairly well. Then I
sat down.
"'Did you want to call another number?' he asked me.
"'No, not two in the same day,' I said; 'but over in America we always
pass out something to the operator when she gives us wrong information
like that--just for the good of the service.'
"'I suppose I ought to reprimand her,' the clerk admitted--'call her
down, as you would say.'
"'If you don't, I will,' I told him.
"'Oh, I had much better do it,' he replied, hastily, taking the receiver
in his hand.
"'I say, miss,' he chirped, 'that number you just gave me, 485 Gerard,
_is_ Crecy & Brown, you know, the one you said had no telephone. Rather
a good joke on you, isn't it, miss?' Then he slammed the receiver on its
hook.
"'There!' he said, 'I think that will hold her for a while, as you say
in your country!'
"Wouldn't you think that would have just mortified her to death?"
Alice laughed. "If you were ambassador to England, Allen, you could
change all that. Perhaps that's the niche for you, after all."
"What's a 'niche'?" demanded Patricia, taking advantage of the first
opportunity to join in the conversation.
"What do you think it is, dear?" Mrs. Gorham asked, smiling.
"I think an itch is an awful feeling; why do you want him to have that?"
Patricia replied, sinking into obscurity at the laugh which her
definition evoked.
Her father, who had been an interested listener thus far, came to her
rescue, and took advantage of Alice's remark to turn the conversation in
the direction he had previously determined upon.
"You haven't heard from your father recently, I judge?" he said.
"I have an idea that the pater has overlooked me," Allen replied; "he's
been so busy with other things."
"Why don't you fall in with his ambition to make a diplomat of you?"
"Well--I suppose the strongest reasons are those which I can't put into
words, Mr. Gorham, but one that seems pretty good to me is that I don't
think I'm fitted for it."
"Why not?"
"I'm too optimistic, I think, to make a good diplomat. If a man's a
gentleman, and treats me square, I'm apt to think he's all right--and,
from what I hear, in diplomacy the one who fools the others the most
times is the best fellow. Isn't that right?"
"Some people would tell you that the same thing holds true in business."
"I know; but in business there seems to be something more tangible to
work on. Of course I don't know anything about it, but I think I could
make a better show selling bonds or cotton than _ententes cordiales_."
"Have you made any effort to secure a position?"
"Not yet, Mr. Gorham. The pater would be more than peeved if I didn't
wait for him and his diplomatic expectations. But if he doesn't get busy
pretty soon, I think I'll hike it over to New York, and see what's
doing."
Gorham smiled in spite of the boy's earnestness. "Surely your father
would realize how much in earnest you are if you talked to him as you're
talking to me now."
"Father always looks upon me as a joke," Allen continued. "He made his
own way, you see, and then, because he was rich, he didn't want me to
endure the hardships which really made him what he is. He gave me plenty
of money all the way through Harvard, and ever since, in fact; yet he is
always wondering why I lack 'initiative.' He's been mighty generous, and
I appreciate it all, but don't you think it's one thing to build your
own character and economize because you have to, and another to
economize when you know you don't have to? I guess that's my complaint."
"He was very proud of what you did at college," Gorham said. "I never
used to meet him without hearing about some of your athletic triumphs."
"I suspect it is you who call them triumphs," Allen replied; "that
doesn't sound like the pater to me. Of course, some of the things I did
in college seemed worth while at the time; I tried for the football
team, and I made it--by hard work, with a hundred other fellows doing
their best to push me back on the side lines; I tried for the crew, and
I made it; I rowed two years at New London, and there was some work
about that. I'm afraid I made athletics my vocation and studies my
avocation, but I tried to do what I undertook as well as I knew how, and
some of the boys still think I'm pretty good in certain lines."
"Life is scarcely a football-field, my boy," Gorham remarked,
sententiously. "The world of business admits of no vacuum. It is the
survival of the fittest, and work is the great secret of success."
"I know what a 'vacuum' is, anyway," Patricia was recovering from her
temporary chagrin.
"Now is your chance to square yourself," said her father, turning to
her, kindly.
"I learned that at school last winter," the child continued, proudly: "a
'vacuum' is the place where the Pope lives when it is vacant."
"There, Allen," laughed Gorham, "you have no excuse for not
understanding my statement."
"Not in the least. Lady Pat has explained my whole difficulty! But,
after all, Mr. Gorham, don't you think there are some things about
business and football which are the same?" pleaded Allen, when Patricia
was again quieted, his attitude with Mr. Gorham being quite different
from the one he had affected with Alice. "I've often tried to think what
I'd do if I ever got started, and I've said to myself that when I came
up against the other fellow I'd just grit my teeth and say, 'That
confounded Eli shan't get through'; and I'm pretty certain that he'd
find something in his way before he got the contract I was after."
Gorham was distinctly interested in the boy's intensity. "Suppose I
write a line to your father and suggest that he take active steps to get
you started somewhere."
"Please don't," Allen said, quickly. "I'll write him myself at once. If
you do it, he'll think I haven't got the spunk. Perhaps I can put it
strong enough so he will realize that I'm tired of killing time running
about in my motor-car."
"I thought your father told me you had lost your license, for speeding."
The boy grinned guiltily. "'Allen Sanford, owner,' lost his license,
but 'A. Sanford, chauffeur,' is still allowed to run a car." Then
turning to Mrs. Gorham: "You didn't realize you were riding with a
chauffeur to-day, did you?"
"You had two licenses?"
"I couldn't possibly get along without them here in Washington. I guess
you don't know how wise these police guys are."
Gorham looked at the boy steadily for a moment with an amused expression
in his eye.
"I have half a mind to try it," he said, aloud.
"Taking out two licenses?" Allen asked, innocently.
"No," Gorham answered; "I was thinking of something else. Your father
will be here some day this week, Allen, and you will have a chance to
discuss the whole matter. Perhaps you can get him to agree to some
compromise. Whatever you go into, remember what one of our great
captains of industry once said--and it's as applicable to diplomacy as
it is to business--'The man who starts first gets the oyster; the second
man gets the shell.'"
"I'll settle it definitely when I see the pater," Allen said, with
determination, "and if I live through the interview I'll go for that
oyster with a flying start. Oh, I expect I'll find plenty of good
interference against me, but I can stand that. What's that story in
mythology about the hydra or something--every time they cut off its head
two more grew? That's what I'm going to be--a hydra. Every time I get
turned down I'm going to bob up twice again, and, the first thing you
know, somebody will give me a job just to get rid of me."