"What of that; it was done with my consent."
"With your consent?" Allen repeated, bewildered. "Then you knew—with your principles—"
Gorham was thoroughly angry now, but he delayed replying until he could choose his words in the presence of his wife and daughter.
"I have borne with this long enough," he interrupted. "I have been patient with you because I sympathized with your disappointment regarding Alice—but my patience is at an end. Your jealousy has so warped your sense of right and wrong that you are willing to attack the reputation of a man of honor and integrity, trying to injure him in the eyes of those who respect him. I warned you against this, and you have failed to heed my warning. Much as I regret it, on many accounts, there is no alternative—your usefulness to the Companies is at an end."
Allen rose and looked searchingly into Gorham's face. He could read in the lines which he saw there a real suffering which touched him deeply. No man, not even his father, had come so closely into his life as Mr. Gorham, and the boy's heart was wrung with pain that he should be the cause of adding to his burdens. But his gaze into those expressive eyes seemed to bewilder him still further, for he passed his hand in a dazed manner across his forehead.
"You must be right," he said at length. "I should have known that I'd be no good in business. Why, I haven't even brains enough to comprehend. I know that you, sir, are the soul of honor, and yet you tell me that you knew of that investment. I'm a failure—I'm just no good, that's all. I'll go back to Pittsburgh and tell the pater what a chance you gave me, and what a mess I made of it. Then I'll ask him to let me strip down as his other workmen do, and go into the furnaces where I belong. Good-night and—good-bye."
As the conversation developed into so serious a situation, Alice and Eleanor watched the two men, astonished at the nature of the disagreement, and filled with apprehension. Mrs. Gorham had grown more fond of the boy than she realized until this moment, and she actually suffered for him. Alice was running the gamut of her emotions, her sensations changing every moment, affected by each sentence which she heard torn from the very soul of each speaker. As Allen rose after his final acceptance of his dismissal, she rose with him, a curious mixture of uncertainty and lack of understanding combining in her expression.
"I don't believe you do know about that stock, daddy," she said, quietly. "Before Allen goes perhaps—"
"I know all about it, Alice," her father replied, impatiently. "Allen has no right to meddle in my personal affairs, and I resent it. Don't interfere, little girl—leave this to me."
The color left her face, and she seemed to grow to mature years in the instant. Allen started to leave, but was held spellbound by the force exercised by the quiet, firm dignity which became at once the dominating factor.