“Whatever you say,” answered Tommy, firmly.
“No! No!” Mr. Leigh shook his head violently. “It is for you to decide, Thomas.” Then he began to snap his fingers, nervously.
“Well, dad,” said Tommy, slowly, “now that I have found you I don't want to leave you, somehow.”
“Don't you, Tommy?” cried the old man, eagerly. He rose and approached his son with outstretched hands. “Don't you really?”
Tommy saw his father's quivering hands and the light of a great love in his eyes.
“I certainly do not! But—” He shook his head.
“But what?” asked Mr. Leigh, halting suddenly. “Well, I think I ought to go back to Dayton.” Tommy thought of the shop, thought of how he might accomplish what Thompson had wanted him to do, what he now could accomplish far more easily. “There's work there that I want to do, dad, and—”
“And what?”
“Well, I want to do it. It's a man's job, and I need not think of the money now, but give myself up to it. But why can't you come with me?” He brightened happily. “How about it?”
But Mr. Leigh said, slowly: “Do you want to go back to Dayton?”