"Jesting! Why, I've pointed out your opportunity, plainly."
"Shown me how I can throw a fortune away!"
After a moment Mr. Procter replied: "We speak in different languages. By opportunity you can see only a chance to make more money."
"Any other sane person makes the same guess," Mr. Massey replied.
The inventor's face grew sad. He had dreamed of John Massey's response, a dream built on sand, as perhaps he should have known. But hope eternal sprang in his heart, and the belief that every man wished the best for his brother.
The silence continued. To break it Mr. Massey turned to David.
"Your friend seems to think he has but to put before me the need for charity and I shall thank him effusively."
David spoke slowly: "My friend should have known better. He forgot, I suppose, your slums where you house your mill hands."
"What do you mean by that?" Mr. Massey began, when an exclamation from Suzanna, who was standing at the window, turned his attention there.
"See, there's a big fire over behind the big field," she cried excitedly. "Oh, look at the flames! The poor, poor people!"