I got up and held out my hand. "I'm sorry, Knowlton."
His old grin returned, as he took my hand. "It's all right, kid," he said. "I'm glad you're learning."
Deep Harbor I suspected to be a difficult spot in which to do new financing. Probably our absentee ownership would be a handicap. I went first to Mr. Claybourne to ask his advice. He received me in his little office, which was upstairs in his own factory. His face grew serious as he listened to me, and I saw him watching a switch-engine through the window.
"I don't know, Ted," he said at length, after my story was done. "I'll be frank with you. This isn't the time to think of you as a future son-in-law. We are talking now about Deep Harbor and business. We don't know much about you. The company is directed from London. We don't like that. On the grounds we have you and Knowlton. Now I dare say you are all right as a chemist, Ted—out in your laboratory. But you don't know any more about American business than a babe unborn."
"That leaves Knowlton," I suggested.
"Yes, that leaves Knowlton," he echoed. "Knowlton is a salaried man. He has no financial interest in your concern. Supposing some one offers him a bigger salary and he ups and leaves you. Where would you be?"
"Knowlton?" I gasped incredulously. "Leave us?"
"It has happened," said Mr. Claybourne drily. "And after all, why not? Why should Knowlton stick with you, if he can make more somewhere else?"
"But—but loyalty," I protested, "good faith—a dozen things make it out of the question!"