Part 33 (1/2)
”If you think I've got money you're wrong,” James explained. ”I'm just starting in my profession, and of course I owe a good deal here and there. I've been hard pressed ever since I left college.”
His father brightened up timidly. ”I owe you money. We can fix that up.
I've got a little mill down there and I've done well, though it was hard sledding at first.”
James caught at a phrase. ”What do you mean?”
”Owe me money!
”I knew it must be you paid off the shortage at the Planters' National.
When I sent the money it was returned. You'd got ahead of me. I was THAT grateful to you, son.”
The lawyer found himself flus.h.i.+ng. ”Oh, Jeff paid that. He was earning money at the time and I wasn't. Of course I intended to pay him back some day.”
”Did Jeff do that? Then you and he must be friends. Tell me about him.”
”There's not much to tell. He's managing editor of a paper here that has a lot of influence. Yes. Jeff has been a staunch friend to me always.
He recognizes that I'm a rising man and ought to be kept before the public.”
”I wonder if he's like his father.”
”Can't tell you that,” his son replied carelessly. ”I don't remember Uncle Phil much. Jeff's a queer fellow, full of Utopian notions about brotherhood and that sort of thing. But he's practical in a way. He gets things done in spite of his softheadedness.”
There was a knock at the door. ”Mr. Jefferson Farnum, sir.”
James considered for a second. ”Tell him to come in, Miss Brooks.”
The lawyer saw that the door was closed before he introduced Jeff to his father. It gave him a momentary twinge of conscience to see his cousin take the old man quickly by both hands. It was of course a mere detail, but James had not yet shaken hands with his father.
”I'm glad to see you, Uncle Robert,” Jeff said.
His voice shook a little. There was in his manner that hint of affection which made him so many friends, the warmth that suggested a woman's sympathy, but not effeminacy.
The ready tears brimmed into his uncle's eyes. ”You're like your father, boy. I believe I would have known you by him,” he said impulsively.
”You couldn't please me better, sir. And what about James--would you have known him?”
The old man looked humbly at his handsome, distinguished son. ”No, I would never have known him.”
”He's becoming one of our leading citizens, James is. You ought to hear him make a speech. Demosthenes and Daniel Webster hide their heads when the Honorable James K. Farnum spellbinds,” Jeff joked.
”I've read his speeches,” the father said unexpectedly. ”For more than a year I've taken the _World_ so as to hear of him.”
”Then you know that James is headed straight for the Hall of Fame.
Aren't you, James?”
”Nonsense! You've as much influence in the state as I have, or you would have if you would drop your fight on wealth.”
”Bless you, I'm not making a fight on wealth,” Jeff answered with good humor. ”It's illicit wealth we're hammering at. But when you compare me to James K. I'll have to remind you that I'm not a silver-tongued orator or Verden's favorite son.”
The father's wistful smile grew bolder. Somehow Jeff's arrival had cleared the atmosphere. A Scriptural phrase flashed into his mind as applicable to this young man. Thinketh no evil. His nephew did not regard him with suspicion or curiosity. To him he was not a sinner or an outcast, but a brother. His manner had just the right touch of easy deference youth ought to give age.