in the world can you expect to succeed in business if you act like this every time you step on any one's toes!"
"Well, then, I don't want to succeed in business!" cried Kenneth.
This was too childish. Boyd looked at his son coldly.
"Well, I do," he stated. "I've put a lot of time and thought into this scheme. I am very much disappointed that it does not meet with your approval, but it will of course go on without it. Do you realize that I am involved in this thing, that I have given my word and pledged my honour to associates in the East? Even if I were inclined to drop this matter on account of your attitude toward it—which I am not, it would be impossible. It has gone too far. How would I look trying to draw back from my agreements because my son felt sorry for someone? You can see yourself that it is nonsense."
He had kept his hard direct gaze fixed on his son's face during the delivery of this speech. Kenneth's head had dropped as the unexpected realization was forced on him that his father would be as impervious to influence as a diving suit to water. Boyd thought this attitude of sadness betokened resignation.
"You'll feel differently about it," he said more kindly. "Think it over. And don't worry about old Peyton. We'll take care of him in good shape. You can pretty near fix him up to suit yourself, if you want to. Better turn in. I'm going to read awhile before I go over for the mail."
Kenneth hesitated. His spirit was like lead. It fluttered its bruised wings, but could not stir from the depths. There was nothing he could add to his impassioned appeal: there was no other angle from which the steel fortress of Boyd's ideas, training, and ethical code could be approached.
"Good night, Father," he said miserably, and went out.
VII
The four blocks' walk to the Fremont was a bitter one. Kenneth's confidence had been so great that all that would be necessary would be to make his father understand the situation, that he would rather have died than face his friends with a confession
