"I wouldn't have liked to miss it, Johnny," he said. "I don't
remember that anything in my life has ever made me as satisfied
as you have to-day."
With a gasp of astonishment the young man looked at him, looked
away, looked at the tops of the houses, and did not find a word
anywhere. His father had never spoken to him so; never before,
perhaps, had he said anything as intimate to any of his sons.
They knew that the cold manner of the great engineer covered
depths, but they never expected to see the depths uncovered.
But here he was, talking of what he felt, of character, and
honor and effort.
"I've appreciated what you've been doing," the even voice went on.
"I talk little about personal affairs. But I'm not uninterested;
I watch. I was anxious about you. You were a more uncertain
quantity than Ted and Harry. Your first three years at Yale
were not satisfactory. I was afraid you lacked manliness.
Then came--a disappointment. It was a blow to us--to family
pride. I watched you more closely, and I saw before that year
ended that you were taking your medicine rightly. I wanted to
tell you of my contentment, but being slow of speech I--couldn't.
So"--the iron face broke for a second into a whimsical grin--
"so I offered you a motor.
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