Parmenter went in and sat down. It was apparent that Charley did not know what had just happened, and Parmenter was not quite ready to tell him. He replied with forced coolness: “It seems to me that you’re a little late in gathering news, aren’t you?”
“Why, yes, I suppose so,” answered Lee. “I might have known of it days ago if I’d been bright enough to take the hints I’ve had, and catch the meaning of the remarks I’ve overheard. But I didn’t dream of such a thing.”
“Oh, didn’t you? Well, what do you think of it, now that you have heard about it?”
Parmenter was exasperatingly cool in manner and tone.
“I don’t know what to think of it,” said Charley, “it has taken me so by surprise. I don’t know whether it has any foundation in fact or not. At any rate, any suggestion that father could have had any other object in view than to sustain his well-known opposition to physical violence of course you won’t believe. Surely he has nothing against you personally.”
“No? Perhaps not; but can you explain to me why it was, then, that he chose me as the subject of his criticism and opposition? It occurs to me, for instance, that you were about as active in the rush as anyone, but I have not heard that any objections were raised to your going on the prize stage.”
Lee’s face turned red and then pale. Parmenter’s speech cut deeply, but he kept his temper. After a moment he said:
“I don’t think father intends to be unfair to anyone, nor partial to anyone, especially to me. And I repeat that he has nothing against you personally. I’ve heard him speak of you in the highest terms.”
“And I,” responded Parmenter, deliberately, “have heard him speak of me in the lowest terms.”
“Fred, what do you mean?”