"The plant is still growing, I see," said Bonbright. "It seems as if
a new building were being put up every time I come home."

"Yes, growing past the prophecy of any of our predecessors," said his
father. He paused. "I am not certain," he said, as one who asks a
question of his inner self, "but I would have preferred a slower,
more conservative growth."

"The automobile has done it, of course."

"Axles," said his father, with a hint of distaste. "The manufacturing
of rear axles has overshadowed everything else. We retain as much of
the old business--the manufacturing of machinery--as ever. Indeed,
THAT branch has shown a healthy growth. But axles! A mushroom that
has overgrown us in a night."

It was apparent that Bonbright Foote VI did not approve of axles, as
it was a known fact that he frowned upon automobiles. He would not
own one of them. They were too new, too blatant. His stables were
still stables. His coachman had not been transmuted into a chauffeur.
When he drove it was in a carriage drawn by horses--as his ancestors
had driven.

"Yes... yes..." he said, slowly, with satisfaction, "it is good to
have you in the business, son. It's a satisfaction to see you sitting
there. ... Now we must look about to find a suitable girl for you to
marry. We must begin to think about Bonbright Foote VIII." There was
no smile as he said this; the observation was made in sober earnest.
Bonbright saw that, just as his ancestors looked to him to carry on