CHARLIE. Hereditary money-grubbing. That's typical. It's our idea of progress and self-reliance and thinking things out for one's self. (He pauses, hand on mantel, looking into fire.)
JABEZ (pause). What, dried up? Well, I've let you have your fling. You are like any other child, Charlie. You've been hurt and you're crying, only you put your squeal into words. A child only howls, while the natural impulse of the adult is to curse something or somebody. Have you said all you wanted to?
JOHN. Charlie, for Heaven's sake——
CHARLIE (facing Jabez). Oh, I'd more to say. But that will do. I've wasted my breath, but it's done me good to give it you straight from the shoulder for once. After all, you're not a millionaire or a trust president. You're precious small beer as employers go nowadays.
JABEZ. Oh, so that's all right, and I'm put in my proper place, eh, Charlie? And you've let off steam now instead of to the men to-night.
CHARLIE. That's as may be. I've not done yet.
JABEZ (to John). This fellow's solved the problem of perpetual motion, John. What is it this time?
CHARLIE (taking a small book from his pocket). Do you know what this is?
JABEZ. It looks like a book.
CHARLIE. It is. Just have a look at it. (Offering it.)