"Grandfather," cried Floyd appealingly, "I did n't mean to be underhand; you know I did n't. I thought you preferred to avoid discussion of the subject with me entirely; and here was something that came into my hands and that I thought you ought to see—something that I thought might help you in the preparation of your speech."
"Or something that you thought might discourage me from making my speech," Colonel Halket replied cynically.
"I am sorry you have so little kindness toward me as to think that," said Floyd.
"What else am I to think?" asked his grandfather. "Your hand has been against me, all through this affair. The hand of every one seems against me, every one on whom I had reason to count. This very document—why, this man Tustin is head of the union that I welcomed into my mills when others were fighting it. But ungrateful as my employees are, I shall persist in my efforts to advance their interests; I shall persist even though I am opposed at home. And when once they have heard me speak, they will be convinced of my sincerity—even though I have not been able to convince you."
"I have never expressed a doubt of your sincerity," Floyd said.
"I am glad to hear it," Colonel Halket replied, but his tone was inexorable. "Dinner is ready; will you walk out?"
"Yes, I will," cried Floyd, with a laugh, seizing his grandfather by the arm. "And don't let's go in to dinner mad; I don't want to sit glowering at you across the table, and I certainly don't want to have you glaring at me."
Colonel Halket relented at this appeal to his good humor, though with some reluctance and only as far as seemed to him compatible with his dignity. The constraint of politeness and consideration with which he treated
