"My crisis came, all right, the other day. It was like the sidewalk coming up and hitting me in the face, it so upset me—oh, it was terrible. I am surprised that I can talk about it so soon." There was a ruefulness and disappointment in his tone.
I smiled encouragingly as he went on.
"I knew there was trouble ahead when the Governor called me into his office—there always was—but I expected, as usual, to win him over. I found for the first time why men called him a 'Gold-Beater.' I sat across a long table from him, never before realizing how big a man he was, his chest seemingly as broad as those of two ordinary men. He wasn't mad, just cold and immovable. He gave me some money and told me that was the last. I had to get out and work or starve. What I decided to do did not interest him. He said he didn't want to see me again and that he didn't care whether I went to hell or to work." Strong spoke as one recalling a nightmare.
"I suppose you have not been able to figure out yet who is right?" I asked.
"Oh, I think there is little doubt who is right, but just how long it will take me to recognize the fact is the question. You see, the Governor was never stingy or tight with me. That's why he was called a 'Gold-Beater'; he has made money, but he owns the money instead of it owning him—at least that's what his cronies say. And there's no doubt about the fact that I should go to work, but in the two or three days I have had to think about it I can't see why he waited so long. It's downright wrong to allow a fellow to believe he's got nothing to do but spend money and get into trouble for years at a stretch, then stop everything all of a sudden. I think that's where the Governor's wrong. But, you see, I can work, and I'm going to fool the old man." Bending over toward me, he added, "But I don't know how I would have come out on my first try if it hadn't been for you."
"Oh—I have done nothing but pass on to you what was done for me when I started. Later on you will perhaps admit that men who work with their hands, if approached right, are more kindly disposed and even more generous than others. But I am glad you speak English, to say nothing of finding a good fellow," I replied, approvingly.
"Well, I am not only glad to find some one who uses English, but, like the kid I really am, I am glad you listen to me. I got such a jolt. You see, it was the first time I ever felt the lash of the paternal whip, and one or two cuts were enough. I now know why the Governor is such a power among men—he does things so thoroughly and quietly. There wasn't any row—he was ready for me and I don't realize yet how well he prepared things, or how much he apparently knows of my movements——" He hesitated with a sorrowful shake of his head and resumed eating.
"You found he was checking you up pretty close?" said I, to urge him on.
"He must have known just how many breaths I took. He said I was a poor investment: that since my mother died when I was three I had cost him about two hundred thousand, and he was closing out a poor proposition. He informed me that I was to consider myself no more a son of his; was even sorry I would have to use his name. And the two thousand, his share of fixing up a man that I, and three others, ran down in the park with an auto, was the last assessment he would stand; and before I knew what was really happening I was leaving without even a good-by. I knew I was going to work, but thought I would have a last grand night and then pull out. But do you know, that in less than an hour, wherever I went, every one knew that Hiram Strong, Jr., had been disinherited and kicked out. I then learned what New York thinks of a 'has-been.' I tried to drown the thought in liquor, but it floated in spite of my most frantic efforts. I guess there was a good deal of the last pickle in me when you saw me first?"