“Nothing at all, nothing at all,” waving him off; “I am reading.” He picked up the newspaper that had fallen to the floor, and became suddenly absorbed in it, after the manner of persons who object to being caught napping.
A smile flickered about Kenneth’s well-shaped mouth but was properly suppressed. There was something pathetic, almost appealing to him to-night about his father.
“If you are not in any particular hurry to finish your paper may I stop a moment?” he said.
“There is a chair—make yourself comfortable.”
“I would like to talk about those plans you spoke of this afternoon,” began Kenneth as soon as he was seated. “I wish very much you would tell me more about them—what your idea is for my immediate future.”
“Where are your own ideas? At twenty-eight a man must have a few.” Mr. Landor kicked a log impatiently, sending up a shower of sparks.
“We were speaking of your ideas, were we not, sir? Mine can come later.”
“So you have some, have you? Good! After all, with your education and advantages it is to be expected. But as your ideas are to be kept to yourself, so are mine. We will talk no further on this subject.”
“We will talk on this subject,” said Kenneth, rising and standing with head erect and flashing eyes. “I am not a boy, father, as you very well know, and I shall not consent to this sort of thing for a moment. If you have anything in your mind regarding me it is my right to know it, and your duty to tell me. You spoke to-day of my settling down. I have been thinking of it a good deal since, and I am inclined to think you are right about it; but I would like to know just what you mean—just what it is you want me to do.”
“Kenneth, I want you around.” The words came in a muffled tone that was scarcely audible.