He had been sure that Mr. Mowbray would insist upon his own figure. Mr. Mowbray liked doing fine, generous things that commanded admiration. But he was really grateful.
Mr. Mowbray had risen. He laid a kindly hand on Anthony’s shoulder.
“I should like you to get on and be helpful to me,” he said. “Edward’s a dreamer, as you know. I should like to think there would be always someone capable and reliable to give him a hand.”
Edward had not returned home for the midsummer vacation. Betty had met him in London and they had made an extended tour on the Continent. Anthony had not seen him for over a year when they met a few days before Christmas. He looked ill. Oxford did not agree with him; he found it enervating, but he thought he would get acclimatized. He had been surprised at Anthony’s having been eager to enter his father’s office. From their talks he had gathered that Anthony was bent upon becoming a business man. He had expected him to try for a place in one of the great steel works or a manufacturer’s office.
“Your grandfather didn’t make his money out of being a solicitor,” explained Anthony. “Your father was telling me only the other day; it was he who set going all the new schemes; they were his idea. He got together the money for them and controlled them. You see, being the leading solicitor of Millsborough, he was in touch with the right people and knew all that was going on behind the scenes. Millsborough was only a little place then, compared to what it is now. If your father”—he checked himself and changed the words that had been upon his lips—“cared to take the trouble he could be a millionaire before he died.”
“I’m glad he doesn’t,” laughed Edward. “I hate millionaires.”
Betty was with them. They were returning home from a walk upon the moors. Edward had clamoured for wind. According to him you wouldn’t get it in Oxford. It was twilight, and they had reached the point where Millsborough lay stretched out before them.
“It depends upon what use you make of it,” Betty chimed in. “Money is a weapon. You can use it for conquering, winning more and more for yourself; or you can use it for freeing the chained, protecting the weak, fighting for the oppressed.”
“Oh, yes; I know the theory,” replied Edward. “Robin Hood. You take it from the rich and give it to the poor. But Robin Hood must first feast with his followers; that’s only fair. And must put by a bit for a rainy day; that’s only common prudence. And then Little John puts in his claims, and dear old Friar Tuck. Mustn’t forget Friar Tuck or the blessing of God won’t be with us next time. And Maid Marion must have a new kirtle and a ribbon or two to tie up her bonny brown hair. And one or two things Robin wants for himself. By the time it’s all over there’s nothing left for the poor.”
Anthony laughed. But Betty took it seriously.