XXX
H. R. called, shortly after ten o'clock the next morning, at the Ketcham National Bank to discuss with his father-in-law-to-be interest rates on the balance he did not yet have.
Mr. Goodchild had slept over the matter. He had spent an hour in going over his annoyances and humiliations, and had failed himself with a wrath that became murderous anger when he compelled himself to realize that H. R. had it in his power to intensify the troubles of the Goodchild family. The marriage of H. R. with his daughter became worse than preposterous; it was a species of blackmail against which there was no defense. He could not reach H. R. by means of the law or by speech or by violence.
When his anger cooled, however, he saw that what he had done was to pay the young man the greatest compliment an elderly millionaire can pay anybody. The more formidable your enemy is, the less disgraceful is your defeat. Mr. Goodchild was as intelligent a man as one is apt to find in the office of the president of a bank; but he was susceptible, as all men are, to self-inflicted flattery. He therefore decided that H. R. was a problem to be tackled in cold blood, with both eyes open and prayer in the heart. The only plan of action he could think of was proposing to H. R. to accomplish an impossibility; in fact, two impossibilities. He also would treat H. R. amicably.
"Good morning, young man!" he said, pleasantly.
"Morning!" said H. R., briskly. "Now let's get down to cases. I expect you to—"
"Hold on!" said Mr. Goodchild, coldly, in order to keep from saying it hotly. "Aren't you a trifle premature?"
"No," said H. R. "I find I can give you a few minutes to-day."
"You'll have to use some of those minutes in listening to me," said Mr. Goodchild, trying to look as though this was routine business.