“Do you still insist on Peter Strong’s doing the climbing? Why not give Peter Coddington a chance?”
“I’d rather not, sir. It was Peter Strong who began at the foot of the ladder, and I want him to be the one to reach the top if he can; it is only fair. Please don’t spoil it now by crowding Peter Coddington into his place.”
“Well, well! You may do your own way, Peter, but it is on one condition. Nat Jackson needs a trip away. The doctors say he is tired out and won’t get well as fast as he should unless he has a change of some sort. I am going to arrange with his mother to take him for a month to the seashore, and I know he will be much happier if Peter Strong goes with him. What do you say?”
Peter looked intently at his father, a tiny cloud darkening his face.
“You need not have any compunctions about going, Peter,” explained Mr. Coddington, reading the trouble in his eyes. “Both the boys have worked faithfully and need a vacation. Their positions will be held for them until they return and their pay will go on during their absence.”
“Oh, Father! How good of you to do so much, not only for me but for Nat and his mother!”
Mr. Coddington did not reply at once. After a pause he said gently:
“Peter, anything I can do for the Jackson family is but a small part of what I owe them. All my life I have tried to trace them. I have searched from Tennessee to Cape Cod. And now, here in my own tannery, I find the clue for which I have been hunting. Your friend Nat and his mother are proud people, and would never accept all that I wish I might offer them; but at least I have this opportunity to furnish help in a purely business way. To provide this trip is a great pleasure to me. Some time you shall know the whole story and then you will understand. I want you to know, for the obligation is one that will go down from father to son so long as a Coddington lives to bear the name. Good-night, my boy.”