His deprecatory gesture was an appeal to his son to be merciful to a sire so hopelessly benighted. Shepherd had hardly taken in what his father said. Once more it was borne in upon him that he was no match for his father. His anger had fallen upon Franklin Mills as impotently as a spent wave breaking upon a stone wall.
“Well, I guess that’s all,” he said faintly.
“One thing more, Shep. There’s another matter I want to speak of. It’s occurred to me the past year that you are not happy at the battery plant. Frankly, I don’t believe you’re quite adapted to an industrial career. The fact is you’re just a little too sensitive, too impressionable to deal with labor.” Mills smiled to neutralize any sting that might lurk in the remark. “I think you’d be happier somewhere else. Now I want someone to represent me in the trust company after the merger goes into effect. Carroll is to be the vice-president and counsel, perhaps ultimately the president. Fleming did much to build up the Rogers and he will continue at the head of the merged companies for the present. But he’s getting on in years and is anxious to retire. Eventually you and Carroll will run the thing. I never meant for you to stay in the battery plant—that was just for the experience. Fields will take your place out there. It’s fitting that you should be identified with the trust company. I’ve arranged to have you elected a vice-president when we complete the reorganization next month—a fine opportunity for you, Shep. I hope this meets with your approval.”
Shepherd nodded a bewildered, grudging assent. This was the most unexpected of blows. In spite of the fact that his authority at the battery plant was, except as to minor routine matters, subordinate to that of Fields, he enjoyed his work. He had made many friends among the employees and found happiness in counseling and helping them in their troubles. He would miss them. To go into a trust company would mean beginning a new apprenticeship in a field that in no way attracted him. He felt humiliated by the incidental manner of his dismissal from one place and appointment to another.
His father went on placidly, speaking of the bright prospects of the trust company, which would be the strongest institution of the kind in the State. There were many details to be arranged, but the enlargement of the Rogers offices to accommodate the combined companies was already begun, and Shepherd was to be ready to make the change on the first of February. Before he quite realized it his father had glided away from the subject and was speaking of social matters—inquiring about a reception someone was giving the next night. Shepherd picked up his hat and stared at it as though not sure that it belonged to him. His father walked round the desk and put out his hand.
“You know, Shep, there’s nothing I have so much at heart as the welfare of my children. You married the girl you wanted; I’ve given you this experience in the battery company, which will be of value to you in your new position, and now I’m sure you’ll realize my best hopes for you in what I believe to be a more suitable line of work. I want you always to remember it of me that I put the happiness of my children before every other consideration.”
“Yes, Father.”
Shepherd passed out slowly through the door that opened directly into the hall and, still dazed, reached the street. He wandered about, trying to remember where he had parked his car. The city in which he was born had suddenly become strange to him. He dreaded going home and confessing to Constance that once more he had been vanquished by his father. Constance would make her usual effort to cheer him, laugh a little at the ease with which his father had frustrated him; tell him not to mind. But her very good humor would be galling. He knew what she would think of him. He must have time to think before facing Constance. If he went to the club it would be to look in upon men intent upon their rhum or bridge, who would give him their usual abstracted greeting. They cared nothing for him: he was only the son of a wealthy father who put him into jobs where he would do the least harm!
IV
He must talk to someone. His heart hungered for sympathy and kindness. If his father would only treat him as he would treat any other man; not as a weakling, a bothersome encumbrance! There was cruelty in the reflection that, envied as no doubt he was as the prospective heir to a fortune and the inheritor of an honored name, there was no friend to whom he could turn in his unhappiness. He passed Doctor Lindley, who was talking animatedly to two men on a corner. A man of God, a priest charged with the care of souls; but Shepherd felt no impulse to lay his troubles before the rector of St. Barnabas, much as he liked him. Lindley would probably rebuke him for rebelling against his father’s judgments. But there must be someone....