They knew that the cold manner of the great engineer covered
depths, but they never expected to see the depths uncovered.
But here he was, talking of what he felt, of character, and
honor and effort.

"I've appreciated what you've been doing," the even voice went on.
"I talk little about personal affairs. But I'm not uninterested;
I watch. I was anxious about you. You were a more uncertain
quantity than Ted and Harry. Your first three years at Yale
were not satisfactory. I was afraid you lacked manliness.
Then came--a disappointment. It was a blow to us--to family
pride. I watched you more closely, and I saw before that year
ended that you were taking your medicine rightly. I wanted to
tell you of my contentment, but being slow of speech I--couldn't.
So"--the iron face broke for a second into a whimsical grin--
"so I offered you a motor. And you wouldn't take it. I knew,
though you didn't explain, that you feared it would interfere
with your studies. I was right?" Johnny nodded. "Yes. And your
last year at college was--was all I could wish. I see now that
you needed a blow in the face to wake you up--and you got it.
And you waked." The great engineer smiled with clean pleasure.
"I have had"--he hesitated--"I have had always a feeling of
responsibility to your mother for you--more than for the others.
You were so young when she died that you seem more her child.
I was afraid I had not treated you well--that it was my fault
if you failed." The boy made a gesture--he could not very well
speak. His father went on: "So when you refused the motor, when
you went into engineer's camp that first summer instead of going
abroad, I was pleased. Your course here has been a satisfaction,
without a drawback--keener, certainly, because I am an engineer,