“Then it's fortunate,” said Austen, resolved not to be the necessary second in a quarrel. He knew his father, and perceived that these preliminary and caustic openings of his were really olive branches.
“Sometimes I think you might as well be in that outlandish country, for all I see of you,” said the Honourable Hilary.
“You ought to retire from business and try fishing,” his son suggested.
The Honourable Hilary sometimes smiled.
“You've got a good brain, Austen, and what's the use of wasting it chasing cattle and practising with a pistol on your fellow-beings? You won't have much trouble in getting admitted to the bar. Come into the office.”
Austen did not answer at once. He suspected that it had cost his father not a little to make these advances.
“Do you believe you and I could get along, Judge? How long do you think it would last?”
“I've considered that some,” answered the Honourable Hilary, “but I won't last a great while longer myself.”
“You're as sound as a bronco,” declared Austen, patting him.
“I never was what you might call dissipated,” agreed Mr. Vane, “but men don't go on forever. I've worked hard all my life, and got where I am, and I've always thought I'd like to hand it on to you. It's a position of honour and trust, Austen, and one of which any lawyer might be proud.”