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She knew better now, for she was at peace, and happiness was hers, besides.... It was pitiful how she clung to Bonbright, how she held him back when he would be leaving in the morning, and how she watched the door for his return. Bonbright knew peace, too. Sometimes it seemed that the conflict was over for him and that he had sailed into a sure and quiet haven where no storm could reach him again.
Bonbright went doggedly to his place at the mouth of the chute and was ready with the whistle, an axle poised to slide downward to the assembling car below. He was afraid afraid he would not be able to get through the day absurdly afraid and ashamed of his physical weakness. If he should play out!... A boy tapped him on the shoulder. "You're wanted in the office," he heard.
"I'm so sorry, Bonbright. I I suppose a boy has the right to pick out his own wife, but it's too bad you couldn't have pleased your mother.... Her heart must ache to-night." "I'm afraid," said Bonbright, slowly, "that it doesn't ache the way you mean, Mrs. Lightener." "It's a hard place to put us. We're meddling. It doesn't seem the right thing to come between mother and son."
When Bonbright Foote VI smiled it was as though he said to himself, "To smile one must do thus and so with the features," and then systematically put into practice his instructions. It was a cultured smile, one that could have been smiled only by a gentleman conscious of generations of correct antecedents; it was an aristocratic smile.
"Um!..." The doorman disappeared to return presently with the lieutenant. "What's this about Malcolm Lightener?" the officer asked. "I gave the man here a message for him," said Bonbright. "Is it on the level? You know Lightener?" "Yes," said Bonbright, impatiently. "Then what the devil did you stay here all night for? Why didn't you have him notified last night? Looks darn fishy to me."
Vaguely he felt that fire must be fought with fire and he all unaccustomed to handling that element. But he would rise to the necessities.... He stepped into Bonbright's room, keyed up to eruption, but he did not erupt. Nobody was there to erupt AT. Bonbright was gone.... Mr. Foote went back to his desk and sat there nervously drumming on its top with his fingers. He was not himself.
This Dulac was sent here to organize our men into a union just why I didn't understand, but he promised to explain it to me." "WHAT?" demanded Bonbright Foote VI, approaching nearer than his wife had ever seen him to losing his poise. "You talked to him?" asked Hilda, leaning forward in her interest. "I was introduced to him; I wanted to know.... He was a handsome fellow.
Now came the sop he had planned to throw to Bonbright. "You have been in the office long enough to learn something of the business, so I shall give you work of greater interest and responsibility.... You say, ridiculously enough, that you have been a rubber stamp.
"What?" said his father, in a tone of one who listens to blasphemy. Bonbright did not waver. He was strong enough now, strong in his anger and in his love. "I am going to marry Ruth Frazer," he repeated. "Nonsense!" said his mother. "It is not nonsense, mother. I am a man. I have found the girl I love and will always love. I intend to marry her. Where is there nonsense in that?"
After several days had elapsed Mr. Foote considered his duty, and interpreted it to impel him to call in person upon his son clothed in dignity and with the demeanor of outraged parenthood. Mrs. Foote was not privy to the project. He met his son descending the steps of the house where he boarded. Bonbright could not have evaded his father if he would. He stopped and waited for his father to speak.
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