you're proud of him, and that you've been a fool to make such a
humiliating exhibition before him as you did this afternoon."

The gathering storm in Stephen Sanford's face did not deter Gorham from
finishing his remarks. He knew that his old friend had seldom, if ever,
had the truth spoken to him as unreservedly as now; but he had been
asked for his advice, and he proposed to give it.

"You--you--" Sanford choked in his rage. "So that's what you think of
me, is it? It's worth something to know that. Knuckle down to that young
cub and have him putting it over me for the rest of my life? What do you
take me for? I'll see him starve first. Why should you undertake to
advise me about my boy--"

"Chiefly because you asked it, Stephen."

"Well, I don't ask for it any more. With all your experience you're not
competent--"

"Should I have shown greater competency if my advice had agreed with
your own ideas?"

"Don't try to juggle with words, Robert. It's all off between the boy
and me, understand. I'll paddle my canoe and he can paddle his. When
he's ready to use my stroke he knows where my landing is. And now
good-day to you. 'Bear with my weaknesses, eh?' 'Humiliating
exhibition.' Good-day, I say." And without giving Gorham the opportunity
to do so he flung open the door and stamped out into the corridor to the
elevator, his cane keeping time with the tumult of thoughts which surged
through his brain.