“Good luck, Thomas,” said the old man, more composedly, and walked away. Tommy looked after him, and for the first time in his life realized that Mr. Leigh's shoulders were inclined to stoop. Years and years of bending over his ledger had left on him the mark of the modern galley slave. Tommy's dislike of bookkeeping rose on the spot to a positive hatred. Also, the stoop showed the weight of a burden heavy beyond words!
He decided that the moment the money was paid back he would ask his father to move to Day-ton, far away from the bank, and live with his only son, who by that time should be able to support both.
“He will never leave the old house,” decided Tommy next. It meant so much to him: the house where Tommy's mother had lived, where Tommy was born, where she died. The sentiment and also the wing-clipping habit of a lifetime made sudden changes dangerous to old age.
“A hell of a world!” came next.
Well, work that a man could take an interest in was invented so that a man need not care whether or not it was a hell of a world.
CHAPTER XX
HE walked into Colonel Willetts's office with a pugnacious consciousness of being twenty years older than on the day before. He would talk business in a business-like way. He was prepared to fight, to overcome opposition, to convince the colonel against the colonel's will.
“Hello, Tommy!” called out Colonel Willetts, cheerily. He was standing beside the stock ticker. “Have a seat, my boy.”