Arthur was both angry and amused.  No doubt Ross was right as to the origin of this new breadth of his; but a wrong motive may start a man right just as readily as a right motive may start him wrong.  Arthur would have admitted frankly his first feelings about his changed position, would have admitted that those feelings still lingered, still seemed to influence him, as grown people often catch themselves thinking in terms of beliefs impressed on them in childhood, but exploded and abandoned at the very threshold of youth.  But he knew, also, that his present beliefs and resolves and aspirations were sincere, were sane, were final—­the expression of the mind and heart that were really himself.  Of what use, however, to argue with Ross?  “I could no more convince him,” thought Arthur, “than I could myself have been convinced less than a year ago.”  Besides, of what importance were Ross’s beliefs about him or about his views?  So he said to him, and his tone and manner were now convincing:  “Well, we’ll see.  However, as long as I’m a workman, I’ll stand with my class—­just as you stand with your class.  And while you are pretending to be generous to us, we’ll pretend to be contemptuous of you.  You’ll think we are living off of your money; we’ll think you are living off of our work.  You’ll say we’re earning less than half what we get; we’ll say you’re stealing more than half what you get.  It may amuse you to hear that I am one of the organizers of the trades union that’s starting.  I’m on the committee on wages.  So some day you and I are likely to meet.”

“I don’t know much about those things,” said Ross politely.  “I can see that you’re right to ingratiate yourself with those working chaps.  It will stand you in good stead when you get on top and have to manage them.”

Arthur laughed, and so did Ross.  They eyed each the other with covert hostility.  “Poor creature!” thought Ross.  And “Pup!” thought Arthur.  “How could I have wanted Del to marry him?” He wished to pass on, but was detained by some suggestion in Ross’s manner that he had not yet discharged his mind of its real burden.

“I was glad to see your mother so well,” said Ross.

“I wish she were,” replied Arthur.  “She seemed to be better while the excitement about Del’s wedding was on; but as soon as Del and Dory went, she dropped back again.  I think the only thing that keeps her from—­from joining father is the feeling that, if she were to go, the family income would stop.  I feel sure we’d not have her, if father had left us well provided for, as they call it.”

“That is true,” said Ross, the decent side of his nature now full to the fore.  “I can’t tell you what a sense of loss I had when your father died.  Artie, he was a splendid gentleman.  And there is a quality in your mother that makes me feel very humble indeed before her.”