, "into the language of a
bank president. Suppose you now talk like a millionaire." It was not
really a request, but a command.

Mr. George G. Goodchild obeyed.

"How much?" he said.

Grace looked as she felt--shocked. She had not fully regained her normal
composure. But this was a man who had kissed her. Was he to be bought
off with money? The shame of it overwhelmed her. She listened almost
painfully to H. R.'s reply.

"I am now," H. R. impassively said to Mr. Goodchild, "waiting for you to
talk like a father."

Mr. Goodchild stared at him blankly.

"Like a father; like a human being," explained H. R. "Grace is no
bundle of canceled checks or a lost stock certificate. She is your
daughter."

"Well?"

"Excuse me; I mean she is your own flesh and blood--the best of your
flesh and blood, at that. Your wishes cannot be considered where her
happiness is at stake. Therefore what you think best is merely your
personal opinion and hence of interest to yourself and to nobody else."

Mr. Goodchild quickly opened his mouth, but before the sound could come
H. R. went on, hurriedly, "Suppose you had set your heart upon her
becoming a mathematician. Would that make her one?"

"Never!" instantly declared the non-mathematical Grace.

Mr. Goodchild shook his head violently and again opened his mouth. But
H. R. once more surpassed him in speed and pursued, calmly
argumentative:

"Or suppose you did not believe in vaccination. Is your opinion to be
allowed to prevail against the advice of your competent family physician
until Grace gets the disease and you are forced to acknowledge that you
were wrong? Or would even the sight of the most beautiful face in the
world pitted and pockmarked fail to shake your own faith in your own
infallibility?"

Grace shuddered. "_Father!_" she exclaimed, horror-stricken, and glared
at Mr. Goodchild. She was now thinking of paternal opposition in terms
of smallpox.

"But--" angrily expostulated Mr. Goodchild.

"Exactly," agreed H. R., hastily. "That's it. Now for a favor. Will you
let me talk business with you? _My_ business!"

Mr. Goodchild's business was to know all about the business of others.
But he did not take it home with him. However, before he could do more
than shake his head, H. R. went on:

"I am organizing six companies."

That sounded like good business. But Mr. Goodchild nodded
non-committally from force of habit.

"The S. A. S. A. Imperial Sandwich Board Corpora