For a moment Hezekiah gazed thoughtfully out of a window making strange gestures with his glasses. Then, turning to the mill owner he smilingly agreed. “As much valuable time has been utilized by you in prolix descriptions, possibly amusing, assuredly slanderous and not tending in the slightest degree to shed light upon our problem, I admit a necessity for expedition.”
Obadiah viewed his attorney with wrathful eyes but remained silent.
Even under the angry eyes of his employer a benignant look lighted the countenance of the lawyer and his voice was very gentle as he resumed, “It’s an old adage–‘Youth will be served.’ In its arrogance, youth defies the wisdom of age and the judgment of the ages. In its careless irresponsibility, it knows not danger. In its assurance and self-confidence it knows not fear. Clad in the armor of health, it basks in the sunshine of its strength and blatantly rejoices in its hopes.”
“Hezekiah Wilkins, are you sick, or what in the devil is the matter with you?” inquired the overwrought manufacturer.
“No, not sick, Obadiah,” Hezekiah explained placidly, “not sick, but happy–happy in that thought–a distinctly attractive one, and exceptionally well-developed for your benefit. I regret,” the lawyer lamented, “that a stenographer was not present to preserve it. It is a pity that the world should lose it–that it should be lost to those who would understand and appreciate it–even love it.”
Obadiah sank deep into his chair, encircled by gloom, as, appreciating his inability to direct the train of his legal adviser’s thought, he allowed that worthy to pursue his own course.
“Youth calls to youth,” the sentimental Hezekiah continued. “Youth understands youth. Youth can persuade youth.” Suddenly the attorney seemed to thrust aside the gentle atmosphere in which he had been immersed, and, fixing a most crafty look upon Obadiah, he snapped, “You and I can’t handle that fellow, but your daughter can. It’s going to cost you some money, though.” He suffered a relapse. “Youth knows neither the value of time nor money.”
Obadiah was filled with relief. “By gum, you’ve hit it,” he shouted. “But why couldn’t you get that off your chest without throwing a fit?” he complained, ill-humoredly.
Once more Hezekiah reverted to sentiment. “The language of youth is song, and its thought poetry,” he sighed, after which he arose and faced the manufacturer across his desk. “I am authorized to proceed in accordance with my plan?” he asked–“to make the best settlement which in my judgment can be made in the premises, through,” he chuckled, “the extraordinary channels to which I have recourse?”
“Go the limit, only keep it out of court,” grumbled Obadiah. “Give such instructions as you wish to Virginia and let her understand that I am only interested in an amicable adjustment and do not care to be bothered with details.”