The old man nodded slowly.
“Why did you do it, dad? Why did you?” asked Tommy, bitterly. Then he remembered what he had decided to do, and his bitterness turned into grief. He approached his father and put an arm about him and repeated, brokenly: “Oh, dad, why did you do it? Why did you?”
He felt a great shudder run through the old shoulders, and that made him clasp them the tighter.
“I—I felt you deserved it, Thomas. And I thought you—you would like it.”
“How could you think such a thing when you knew how I felt about the money you had—you had spent for me, that I was trying to pay back?”
“I thought only,” said the old man, in the dispirited monotone that Tommy now associated with a confession of guilt and an attempt to excuse the inexcusable, “that your mother would have been so proud of you, a stockholder in the company, an owner as well as an employee, earning your wages like an honest man.” Mr. Leigh nodded to himself again and again.
“But, father, how could I allow it? How could you think—”
“I am your father. Willetts would take only the two hundred shares he had promised to take for his children. I knew your heart was set upon raising the money, and that you would have been disappointed with your certain failure with your other friends, so I—I told Willetts to subscribe for the whole two thousand shares and to tell you he would distribute them later. I would take the rest. I knew you wanted it, Thomas. And being himself a father, he understood. I spoke to some friends and they were willing, but they were not your friends; and then I thought, 'Why shouldn't my only son own that stock himself?' And so it's your stock. It's paid for and nobody can take it away from you.” He paused. Then he repeated. “Nobody can take it away from you!” and looked defiantly at his only son.
Tommy's heart sank; but he shook his head kindly and, as one speaks to a child, said: “Well, I'll have to give it up. Mr. Thompson said he would buy the stock back himself—”
“Certainly not!” interrupted Mr. Leigh, decidedly.