Allen had ample opportunity to act the part of the hydra. When his
father left him after their stormy interview the boy utterly failed to
realize the seriousness of the situation. The "pater" had been angry
with him before,--if the truth be told, he was usually angry with
him,--so the fact that the altercation this time had been more severe
than usual was a matter simply of degree. The cutting off of his
allowance was a tangible evidence that his father was more than
ordinarily angry; but, on the other hand, Allen felt himself to be the
aggrieved party, and in a virtuous burst of righteousness he declared to
himself that he "didn't want the pater's money, anyway." He considered
it fortunate that it was still early in the month, and it did not occur
to him to consider the rather handsome balance he still possessed as too
tainted to retain; but as he looked at it the upshot of the whole matter
was that now he would be forced to go into business at once--and this
was his strongest desire since he had met Alice. So Allen "hiked it" to
New York, and spent a fortnight seeking out the opening which should
best offer him the opportunity to become a captain of industry with the
least possible delay.
In the mean time, Covington had returned to Washington to assist Gorham
in putting through a government contract for the building of the new
battleships just authorized by Congress. He found his chief gratified by
the continued advance of the Companies' interests, but still more
impressed by the personal responsibility which this success entailed.
"I repeated the cable from Brazil to you by wire," Covington remarked.
"Yes; the Consolidated Companies now controls the coffee output of the
world. With the economies which we can introduce in production and
handling there will be a saving of about twelve millions a year."
"That will be a handsome addition to the dividends already assured the
stockholders," Covington observed.
"Only a drop in the bucket compared with what is to come," Gorham
assured him. "The people can now save six millions a year on their
breakfast cup of coffee, while the Consolidated Companies may
conscientiously drop the other six into its own cup by way of
sweetening."
"You don't really mean that you are going to throw away all that
profit?" was the incredulous inquiry.
"I'm not going to 'throw away' any of it."
"I know," Covington said, quickly; "but six millions is a large sum of
money, and one million given to the public by way of lower prices, if
properly advertised, would accomplish the purpose just as well."