"Yes, they had," said Farwell positively. "Didn't I say they were clever? It wasn't lack of that—it was their confounded fooling around. Almost every man gets one chance to make good. If he's ready for it when it comes, he's made. If he isn't—well, he isn't. That was the way with these fellows. When they should have been digging into the ground-work of their profession they weren't. And so, when good things were given them, they fell down hard. They lost money for other people, and that doesn't do. Now they're down and out—lucky to get a job with a level and one rodman to boss. There's no sympathy coming to them. It was their own fault."
He spoke positively, with finality, beating the heel of his clenched fist against his knee to emphasize his words. Evidently he spoke out of the faith that was in him. Not a line of his face suggested humour or whimsicality. Not a twinkle of the eye relieved its hardness. He was grave, dour, purposeful, matter-of-fact. He took himself, his life, and the things of life with exceeding seriousness.
Sheila regarded him thoughtfully. Somehow she was reminded of her father. There was the same gravity, marching hand in hand with tenacity of purpose, fixity of ideas; the same grim scorn of the tonic wine of jest and laughter. But in the elder man these were mellowed and softened. In Farwell, in the strength of his prime, they were in full tide, accentuated.
"Every man should have a good chance, and be ready for it," she replied; "but some men never get it."
"Yes, they do; yes, they do," he asseverated. "They get it, all right. Only some of them don't know it when it comes; and others are ashamed to own up that they've missed it. We all get it, I tell you, sooner or later."
"It may come too late to some."
"No, no, it comes in time if a man is wide awake. It's about the only square deal creation gives him. And it's about all creation owes him. It's right up to them then. If he's asleep, it's his own fault. I don't say it doesn't happen more than once; but it does happen once."
Plainly he was in deep earnest. He had no tolerance of failure, no excuse for it. According to his theory, every man at some time was master of his fate.
"Have you had your chance?" she asked.
"Not the big chance that I want. I've done some good work, here and there. But the big thing is coming to me. I feel it. And I'm in shape to handle it, too. When I do that, I'll quit working for other people. I'll work for myself. Yes, by George! they can come to me."