“Not going back into architecture? Not enough fight in it now, eh? Want something more vigorous.”
“Well,” said Stacey, “I’m not going back into it, architecture, at once, anyway. Want to look around a bit first. Can’t say that I really know what my reasons are.”
His answer was strictly truthful. He did not know his reasons—except that he literally couldn’t have drawn plans for so much as a barn.
His father nodded, then, catching sight of a man who was walking briskly along the sidewalk of the street down which the car was gliding, told the chauffeur to stop, and, leaning out, called: “Colin! Oh, Colin!”
It was Colin Jeffries, president of the smelting works, president of the power plant, vice-president and dictator of the great linseed oil mills, head of a dozen corporations, donor to the city of its art gallery and public library, Vernon’s first citizen. A man of fifty-five, vigorous, keen-eyed, clean-shaven but for a short dark moustache. Not at all like Mr. Carroll in features. As like him as one pea to another in expression.
“My son, Colin. Captain Carroll. You remember him. Just got back. Wanted you to shake hands with him. D. S. C.—‘for cool leadership and conspicuous bravery in action.’ ”
“I know,” said Mr. Jeffries, shaking Stacey’s hand warmly and gazing straight into his eyes. “Glad to see you back, my boy. Very genuinely glad. Congratulations aren’t much, but you have them. We older men, who couldn’t go, aren’t going to forget what you young men did.”
“Thanks,” said Stacey, considering him coolly. It occurred to him that it was quite right of Mr. Jeffries to be grateful, since one thing the young men had done was to make him considerably richer than formerly. However, Stacey did not think this with any bitterness, or accuse the millionaire of a self-interested patriotism or of anything else. He was simply no longer—as he had once been—impressed by the legend of the man. He merely scrutinized him coldly from outside and reserved judgment.
“There’s another reason we’re glad to have you back,” Mr. Jeffries was saying gravely. “You young men have saved the country from one danger. We count on you to save it from another. You’ll find probably that you’ve got to keep on saving it. Conditions are chaotic. The country’s full of social unrest. You’ll see.” (Mr. Carroll nodded assent emphatically.) “Malignant forces are at work secretly. It’s you boys of the American Legion who will be the greatest factor for good in the country’s life for the next generation. Rest? You won’t find rest. Do you want it?”
“Not particularly, Mr. Jeffries,” Stacey replied calmly.