"I'll show him that he can't make a monkey out of his father. You've seen him, Robert. You know what an obstinate, headstrong cub he is. Wants to go into business, does he? Thinks he knows what's good for him better than his father does, does he? I'll show him. He can go to the devil now—that's where he can go."
Gorham knew better than to interrupt Sanford until his tirade was spent. He watched him pacing up and down the room; he noted the twitching of his features, the clenched hands, and the violent color in his face.
"You're taking chances to let yourself get worked up like this, Stephen," he said, quietly, at length. "You and I are growing older, and our systems won't stand what they used to."
Sanford stopped abruptly. "That's what he's counting on, the ingrate. I've spent my whole life building up those furnaces and making money so that he might be a gentleman. Now he throws it all over, and he thinks I'll shuffle off in one of these spells; but I'll fix him. Not a penny of my money shall he get—not one penny."
"How has Allen disgraced himself? Has he been stealing, or is it forgery or murder?"
"You—you," Sanford sputtered, "you dare to suggest that my boy would disgrace himself! You—you—"
"Sit down, Stephen, and calm yourself," Gorham laughed. "No one could think of a less heinous crime than I have suggested, judging by your own arraignment of the boy. How can I help you unless you tell me what has happened?"
"I'm an old fool to let you string me so, but I'm all used up."
"And the boy has been a young fool and proved himself a chip of the old block—how is that for a guess?"
"So you're going to take sides with him, are you?"