"I suppose you won't begrudge me a bite and sup till I find a job, dad?" the son said with just a little tremor in his voice. "I know I haven't really anything of my own. You have done everything for me. Your money bought the very clothes I stand in. You gave me the means to buy the Merry Andrew. I realize that nothing I have called my own actually belongs to me because I did not earn it——"
"As long as you are amenable to discipline," put in his father gloomily, "you need not feel this way."
"But I do feel it now," said Lawford simply. "You have made me. And, as I say, I'll need to live, I suppose, till I get going for myself."
His father winced again. Then suddenly burst out:
"D'you think for a minute that that society girl will stand for your getting a job and trying to support her on your wages?"
"She will if she loves me."
"You poor ninny!" burst out I. Tapp. "You've got about as much idea of women as you have of business. And where are you going to work?"
"Well," and Lawford smiled a little whimsically, serious though the discussion was, "I've always felt a leaning toward the candy business. I believe I have a natural adaptability for that. Couldn't I find a job in one of your factories, dad?"
"You'll get no leg-up from me, unless you show you're worthy of it."
"But you'll give me a job?"