“Mr. Lightener, this business was originally a machine shop.  It has grown and developed since the first Bonbright Foote founded it.  I am the first to deviate in any measure from the original plan, and I have done so with doubt and reluctancy.  I have seen with some regret the manufacturing of axles overshadow the original business—­though it has been profitable, I admit.  But I shall go no farther.  I am not sure my father and my grandfather would approve of what I have done.  I know they would not approve of other changes. ...  More money does not attract me.  This plant is making enough for me.  What I want is more leisure.  I wish more time to devote to a certain literary labor upon which I have been engaged...”

“Literary flub-dub,” said Lightener.  “I’m offering you half a million a year on a silver platter.”

“I don’t want it, sir. ...  I am not a young man.  I have not been in the best of health-owing, perhaps, to worries which I should not have been compelled to bear. ...  I am childless.  With me Bonbright Foote, Incorporated, comes to an end.  Upon my death these mills close, the business is to be liquidated and discontinued.  Do I make myself clear?...  I am not interested in your engines.”

“What’s that you said?” Lightener asked.  “Childless?  Wind up this business?  You’re crazy, man.”

“I had a son, but I have one no longer. ...  In some measure I hold you responsible for that.  You have taken sides with a disobedient son against his father...”

“And you’ve treated a mighty fine son like a dog,” said Lightener, harshly.

“I have done my duty. ...  I do not care to discuss it with you.  The fact I want to impress is that my family becomes extinct upon my death.  My wife will be more than amply provided for.  I may live ten years or twenty years—­but I shall live them in such comfort as I can obtain. ...  Is there anything else you wish to talk to me about?”

It was a dismissal, and Malcolm Lightener was not used to being dismissed like a troublesome book agent.

“Yes,” he said, getting to his feet.  “There is something, and I’ll be short and sweet about it.  You have a son, and if I’m any judge, he’s about four times the man his father is.  You don’t want him!...  Well, I do.  I want him in my business, and he won’t lose such a lot by the change.  It’s your ledger that shows the loss, and don’t you forget it.  You did what you could to warp him out of shape—­and because he wouldn’t be warped you kicked him out.  Maybe the family ends with you, but a new Foote family begins with him, and it won’t be any cut-and-dried, ancestor-ridden outfit, either.  One generation of his kind will be worth more to this country than the whole six of yours. ...  I hope you live to see it.”

Lightener stuffed his blue prints and specifications into his pocket and left the office truculently.  Once more in his own office he summoned a boy.

“Fetch Mr. Foote from the purchasing department,” he said.