“Why?”

“Because—­I shall not want to see you.”

“That’s good,” said he steadily.  “Then let me tell you that I should not come even if you would let me.  I wanted you to know that.”

A little, half-smothered laugh came from her in spite of herself, in which he rather grimly joined.  Then the others, calling questions and reproaches, bore down upon them, and the evening for Richard Kendrick was over.  But the fight he meant to win was just begun.

CHAPTER XV

MAKING MEN

“Grandfather, have you a good courage for adventure?”

Matthew Kendrick looked up from his letters.  His grandson Richard stood before him, his face lighted by that new look of expectancy and enthusiasm which the older man so often noted now.  It was early in the day, Mr. Kendrick having but just partaken of his frugal breakfast.  He had eaten alone this morning, having learned to his surprise that Richard was already off.

“Why, Dick?  What do you want of me?” his grandfather asked, laying down his letters.  They were important, but not so important, to his mind, as the giving ear to his grandson.  It was something about the business, he had no doubt.  The boy was always talking about the business these days, and he found always a ready listener in the old man who was such a pastmaster in the whole difficult subject.

“It’s the mildest sort of weather—­bright sun, good roads most of the way, and something worth seeing at the other end.  Put on your fur-lined coat, sir, will you? and come with me up to Eastman.  I want to show you the new shop.”

Mr. Kendrick’s eye brightened.  So the boy wanted him, did he?  Wanted to take him off for the day, the whole day, with himself.  It was pleasant news.  But he hesitated a little, looking toward the window, where the late March sun was, surely enough, streaming in warmly.  The bare branches outside were motionless; moreover, there was no wind, such as had prevailed of late.

“I can keep you perfectly warm,” Richard added, seeing the hesitation.  “There’s an electric foot-warmer in the car, and you shall have a heavy rug.  I’ll have you there in a couple of hours, and you’ll not be even chilled.  If the weather changes, you can come back by train.  Please come—­will you?”

“I believe I will, Dick, if you’ll not drive too fast.  I should like to see this wonderful new store, to be sure.”

“We’ll go any pace you like, sir.  I’ve been looking for a day when you could make the trip safely, and this is it.”  He glanced at the letters.  “Could you be ready in—­half an hour?”

“As soon as I can dictate four short replies.  Ring for Mr. Stanton, please, and I’ll soon be with you.”

Richard went out as his grandfather’s private secretary came in.  Although Matthew Kendrick no longer felt it necessary to go to his office in the great store every day, he was accustomed to attend to a certain amount of selected correspondence, and ordinarily spent an hour after breakfast in dictation to a young stenographer who came to him for the purpose.