er to rise until the Elder gave the sign. Peter Junior walked down
the length of the hall at his father's side.

"What Richard really wished to do was what I mentioned to you
yesterday for myself. He wanted to go to Paris and study, but after
visiting his great-aunts he saw that it would be too much. He would
not allow them to take from their small income to help him through, so
he gave it up for the time being; but if he keeps on as he is, it is
my opinion he may go yet. He's making good money. Then we could be
there together."

The Elder made no reply, but stooped and drew on his india-rubber
overshoes,--stamping into them,--and then got himself into his
raincoat with sundry liftings and hunchings of his shoulders. Peter
Junior stood by waiting, if haply some sort of sign might be given
that his remark had been heeded, but his father only carefully
adjusted his hat and walked away in the rain, setting his feet down
stubbornly at each step, and holding his umbrella as if it were a
banner of righteousness. The younger man's face flushed, and he turned
from the door angrily; then he looked to see his mother's eyes fixed
on him sadly.

"At least he might treat me with common decency. He need not be rude,
even if I am his son." He thought he detected accusation of himself
in his mother's gaze and resented it.

"Be patient, dear."

"Oh, mother! Patient, patient! What have you got by being patient all
these years?"

"Peace of mind, my son."

"Mother--"

"Try to take your father's view of this matter. Have you any idea how
hard he has worked all his life, and always with the thought of you
and your advancement, and welfare? Why, Peter Junior, he is bound up
in you. He expected you would one day stand at his side, his mainstay
and help and comfort in his business."

"Then it wasn't for me; it was for himself that he has worked and
built up the bank. It's his bank, and his wife, and his son, and his
'Tower of Babel that he has builded,' and now he wants me to bury
myself in it and worship at his idolatry."

"Hush, Peter. I don't like to rebuke you, but I must. You can twist
facts about and see them in a wrong light, but the truth remains that
he has loved you tenderly--always. I know his heart better than
you--better than he. It is only that he thinks the line he has taken a
lifetime to lay out for you is the best. He is as sure of it as that
the days follow each other. He sees only futility in the way you would