"Your family stand by us loyally," observed the financier.
"We have your mills to thank for our daily bread, sir," Mr. Turner answered.
"And your boy—if he does not go on with his studies shall you have him enter the factories?"
Mr. Turner squared his shoulders with a swift gesture of protest.
"No, sir—not if I can help it!" he burst out. Then as if he suddenly sensed his discourtesy, he added, "I beg your pardon, gentlemen. I wasn't thinking who I was talking to. It isn't that I do not like the mills. It's only that there is so little chance for the lad to get ahead there. I wouldn't want the boy to spend his life grubbing away as I have."
"And yet you are denying him the chance to better himself."
"I am kinder going round in a circle, ain't I?" returned Mr. Turner gently. "Like as not it is hard for you to understand how I feel. It's only that you hate to let somebody else do for your children. It seems like charity."
"Charity! Charity—when we owe the life of our boy, the lives of many of our workmen, the safety of our mills to your son?" ejaculated Mr. Clarence Fernald with unmistakable sincerity.
"When you pile it up that way it does sound like a pretty big debt, doesn't it?" mused Mr. Turner.
"Of course it's a big debt—it is a tremendous one. Now try, Mr. Turner, and see our point of view. We want to take our envelope in our hands and although we have not fortune enough in the world to wipe out all we owe, we wish to pay part of it, at least. No matter how much we may be able to do for Ted in the future, we shall never be paying in full all that he has done for us. Much of his service we must accept as an obligation and give in return for it nothing but gratitude and affection. But if you will grant us the privilege of doing this little, it will give us the greatest pleasure."