“Putting it well,” replied Sam, with a slow smile, “wouldn’t affect the fact, sir, would it? It seems to me that it doesn’t much matter whether you give me money outright to pay my expenses at Warner or whether you pay that money to a fraternity and say, ‘Here, you give this to Sam Craig and tell him it’s salary.’”
“But it is salary!”
“But you’d be paying it, sir.”
“Someone would have to, and I could afford it. Why, hang it, the thing’s done every day, I tell you!”
“Maybe, sir, but——” Sam paused a moment. Then, “Mr. York, if I happened to be your son and I told you someone had made me such an offer, would you say, ‘Take it’?”
“No, because if you were my boy it wouldn’t be necessary for you to accept—er——”
“Charity, you were going to say, weren’t you, sir? But suppose you couldn’t afford to pay my tuition at college, sir. Then what? Would you want me to accept the—the proposition?”
“Why not? It’s a fair business arrangement, isn’t it, Craig?”
“Perhaps it is, but if you were my father would you want people to say that I was being paid to play baseball for some college?”
Mr. York’s gaze turned to the open door and a frown puckered his forehead. Several moments passed. Sam, with that little smile that seldom got farther than his eyes, watched and waited. Finally Mr. York turned his gaze back to the boy and an unwilling smile overspread his face, a smile that was more than half a scowl.