Hezekiah gravely conceded Obadiah’s claim of paternity.
“The law gives me some control of her?”
“As an unmarried woman, you have certain rights over her,” Hezekiah admitted.
“Well then, I want her back,” bellowed Obadiah, the notes of his voice getting higher as the intensity of his feeling increased. “You go and get her and make her come home.”
“Did you have in mind legal proceedings to compel your daughter to return under your roof?” inquired Hezekiah in a suave manner, in marked contrast to the bluster of his employer.
“It doesn’t make any difference how you do it. Kidnap her for all I care. What I want is to get her back,” the mill owner stormed.
“Has it occurred to you, that in such matters care must be taken to avoid a serious rupture of those affectionate relations which, after all, are the basis of the home and the natural tie between a father and daughter?” Hezekiah suggested quietly.
Obadiah’s face was swollen with passion, his obstinacy written deep in it. “She must come home,” he proclaimed. “I want her. I’m tired of living alone. You go and make her come back.”
The smooth shaven countenance of the lawyer hardened. His usual good-humored expression melted into one of resolution as he said with great calmness, “I have thought, sometimes, Obadiah, that you fail to display a clear conception of an attorney’s duties.”
“What?”