It was that autumn of jubilation after the Spanish War. The morning when I drove through the city to the bankers' office, workmen were putting up a great arch across the avenue for the coming day of celebration. Our people had shown the nations of the world the might and the glory in us. Forgotten now was the miserable mismanagement of our brave men, the shame of rotten rations, the fraud of politicians—all but the pride of our strength! A new spirit had come over our country during these months—a spirit of daring and adventure, of readiness for vast enterprises. That business world of which I was a part was boiling with activities. The great things that had been done in the past in the light of the present seemed but the deeds of babes. And every man who had his touch upon affairs felt the madness of the times.
Among the gentlemen gathered in the bankers' office that morning was my old friend Farson. I had not seen him since our unpleasant luncheon at the railroad station. He greeted me courteously enough, as if he had once been acquainted with somebody by my name. It was apparent that he had come there to represent what was left of the old New England interests in the railroad properties; but he did not count in that gathering. The men at Morris Brothers listened to me most of the time that morning!
As we broke up for luncheon Farson congratulated me dryly on the success I had met with in the negotiations.
"I hope, then, we shall have your support," I remarked, forgetting our past dispute.
"I am here to see that my friends are taken care of," he replied grimly; "all we hope is to get our money back from the properties. My people do not understand you and your generation. We are better apart."
"I am sorry you think so," I said, understanding well enough what he meant.
"I am sorry, too: sorry for you and for our country in the years to come. For she it is who suffers most by such ideals as you stand for."
"I think that you are mistaken there," I answered peaceably. "We are the ones who are making this country great. If it weren't for men like me, you good people wouldn't be doing any business to speak of. There wouldn't be much to be done!"
"Our fathers found enough to do," he retorted dryly, "and they did not buy judges nor maintain lobbies in the legislature."
"There wasn't any money in it those days!" I laughed.