He nodded kindly.
"Yes, boy. I kind of know how you're feeling. Just get around, and—sort things out," he said. "When you've done, just round-up your Phyllis and tell her the things you've heard. I'd like you to. After that, if you've the notion, you can come right back to me."
Frank drew another step nearer. His father waited.
"Yes—father. I—think I will."
There was doubt and hesitation in the boy's words and movements. Hendrie remained quite still. Suddenly Frank turned away and walked toward the door. Half-way across the room he paused again irresolutely. He glanced back. The smiling eyes of his father caught his.
In a moment his indecision passed, and he strode back quickly with long, firm strides.
As he drew near, his great right hand was thrust out.
"Won't—won't you shake hands, father?" he cried.
In an instant his hand was caught in a crushing grip.
"Why, yes, lad," cried Hendrie, a great light shining in his eyes. "Say, this is just the greatest moment in my life."