Mr. Forrester agreed with the English firm that the Japanese were “a wonderful little people,” and then looked about for some one individual he could blame. Finding no one else, he blamed Roddy. The interview took place on the twenty-seventh story of the Forrester Building, in a room that overlooked the Brooklyn Bridge.
“You didn’t fall down on the job,” the fond parent was carefully explaining, “because you never were on the job. You didn’t even start. It was thoughtful of you to bring back kimonos to mother and the girls. But the one you brought me does not entirely compensate me for the ninety thousand dollars you didn’t bring back. I would like my friends to see me in a kimono with silk storks and purple wistarias down the front, but I feel I cannot afford to pay ninety thousand dollars for a bathrobe.
“Nor do I find,” continued the irate parent coldly, “that the honor you did the company by disguising yourself as a stoker and helping the base-ball team of the Louisiana to win the pennant of the Asiatic Squadron, altogether reconciles us to the loss of a government contract. I have paid a good deal to have you taught mechanical engineering, and I should like to know how soon you expect to give me the interest on my money.”
Roddy grinned sheepishly, and said he would begin at once, by taking his father out to lunch.
“Good!” said Forrester, Senior. “But before we go, Roddy, I want you to look over there to the Brooklyn side. Do you see pier number eleven—just south of the bridge? Yes? Then do you see a white steamer taking on supplies?”
Roddy, delighted at the change of subject, nodded.
“That ship,” continued his father, “is sailing to Venezuela, where we have a concession from the government to build breakwaters and buoy the harbors and put up light-houses. We have been working there for two years and we’ve spent about two million dollars. And some day we hope to get our money. Sometimes,” continued Mr. Forrester, “it is necessary to throw good money after bad. That is what we are doing in Venezuela.”
“I don’t understand,” interrupted Roddy with polite interest.
“You are not expected to,” said his father. “If you will kindly condescend to hold down the jobs I give you, you can safely leave the high finance of the company to your father.”
“Quite so,” said Roddy hastily. “Where shall we go to lunch?”