"Yes," he went on, impetuously, "and I heard the most wonderful appeal to which I ever listened—an appeal which stirred me to the deepest depths of my being. I think it's the biggest movement of the century. I'm going to study it. I'm going to see what it means. What do you say to it?"
The boy lifted his tall figure with instinctive dignity, and his eyes met his father's in a straight, deep man's gaze.
The faintest smile played about the corners of the Colonel's mouth as he suddenly extended his hand.
"I congratulate you!"
"Congratulate me?" Norman stammered.
"Upon the attainment of your majority. Up to date you have written a few verses and played football. But this is the first evidence you have ever shown of conscious personality. You're in the grub-worm stage as yet, but you're on the move. You're a human being. You have developed the germ of character. And that's the only thing in this world that's worth the candle, my boy. It's funny to hear you say that the appeal of Socialism has worked this miracle. For character is the one thing the scheme of Socialism leaves out of account. A character is the one thing a machine-made society could never produce if given a million years in which to develop the experiment."
"And you don't object?" Norman asked with increasing amazement.
"Certainly not. Study Socialism to your heart's content. Go to the bottom of it. Don't slop over it. Don't accept sentimental mush for facts. Find out for yourself. Read, think, and learn to know your fellow man. When you've picked up a few first principles, and know enough to talk intelligently, I've something to say to you—something I've learned for myself."
The boy looked at his father steadily and spoke with a slight tremor in his voice.
"Governor, you're a bigger man than I thought you were. I like you—even if you are my father."