“Well, for cool, canny head-work, Davy, you’ve got a Boston lawyer faded to a whisper. And for unadulterated decency you’ve got a vestal virgin—”
“Tush,” said David, as they walked toward the vestibule. “It’s one o’clock, and I promised Aunt Elizabeth I’d be home at twelve.”
————
That afternoon, some hours later, Bascomb was in his father’s office, where they talked over Ross’s proposition. Finally, the elder man, who had been gazing out of the window, turned in his chair and faced his son.
“All right, Walter. Go ahead. I’ll have the stock transferred. Ross will make a go of it if any one will. I didn’t expect this of him, though. It took more moral courage for him to do it than most men have. I didn’t know he thought so much of you.”
“Oh, it isn’t altogether on my account, Dad. You might know that; and as for moral courage, I think it was a pretty classy piece of Morganeering.”
“Which one?” queried the elder Bascomb, smiling.
“Does that make any difference?” asked Wallie. “But, say, Dad, you don’t think I’m a deserter, do you? My going over to the enemy seems to be about the only way out of our trouble; besides, your stock will be in my name, and really, it’s only Davy’s way of being a friend. Bess, you know—”
“Yes,” interrupted the elder man wearily, “I understand. I’ve worked for thirty years, and here I am practically accepting charity from a young fellow who wanted to marry my daughter and didn’t because I objected to his sentimental idea about going into the woods to make his mark. Well, I’ve arranged to go away—for a rest. You go ahead and do what you can.”
“What’s the matter, Dad?” Bascomb came to his father and laid his hand affectionately on his shoulder.