"It may come, my boy; my almost son! And when Thomas Ashley's head shall be low in the grave, the leading manufacturer of this city may be William Halliburton."
A loud rapping at the door with a thick stick interrupted the master's words. He turned to behold Mr. Dare. It appeared that Cyril had by chance met his father in the street almost immediately after going out; he had volunteered to him a most exaggerated account, and Mr. Dare had come, as he said, to learn the rights of it.
William left the room. He could not avoid remarking the bowed, broken appearance of the man. Mr. Ashley related the particulars, and the listener was obliged to acknowledge that Cyril had been to blame—had been too hasty.
"I confess it appears so," he said. "He must have been led away by temper. But, Mr. Ashley, you ought to stretch a point, and make a concession. We are kinsmen."
"What concession?"
"Discharge William Halliburton. Things can never go on smoothly between him and Cyril. Stretch a point to oblige us, and send him away."
"Discharge William Halliburton!" echoed Mr. Ashley in surprise. "I could as soon discharge myself. William is the right hand of the business. It could go on without me, but I am not sure that it could do so without him."
"Cyril can take his place."
"Cyril is not qualified for it. And——"
"Cyril declares he will never enter the place again, so long as Halliburton is in it."