"You can't take the credit to yourself for Helen and make that into an argument," I said. "Logic has its limits."
"I never went to college, so logic doesn't bother me," my father smiled. It was the first time his face had relaxed since I came in.
"I'll go," I announced. My father opened a desk drawer and took out a bundle of papers.
"Here's your railway ticket—Harwich—Hook of Holland. You leave from Victoria. And here's your instructions and a letter of introduction to the Treptow Chemische Gesellschaft. When you know how to use the process you will be taught, come home. The quicker you learn, the quicker you get back. But you must know it thoroughly."
"Then you did think I'd accept," I remarked, rather indignant again.
"My dear boy, it never crossed my mind you would make a fuss. You took me entirely by surprise."
"I always seem to be wrong," I growled.
"But fortunately you often end up by doing right," my father smiled.
Helen was a brick. We talked the whole thing over, and she scolded me for having hesitated. Helen's scoldings were very affectionate affairs. She smiled and assured me she would be all right. It might be the best way to win my mother over, and so on. Besides she would do a thousand things with Frances and would write me every day. At the end I rang for Chitty and told him to pack enough things for a month's journey.
"Will you be playing golf, sir?" he asked. Helen squealed with delight from the bed, where she was sitting with her feet tucked under her.