Hope of Happiness — 5

I

Franklin Mills stood by one of the broad windows in his private office gazing across the smoky industrial district of his native city.

With his hands thrust into his trousers’ pockets, he was a picture of negligent ease.

His face was singularly free of the markings of time.

His thick, neatly trimmed hair with its even intermixture of white added to his look of distinction.

His business suit of dark blue with an obscure green stripe was evidently a recent creation of his tailor, and a wing collar with a neatly tied polka-dot cravat contributed further to the impression he gave of a man who had a care for his appearance.

The gray eyes that looked out over the city narrowed occasionally as some object roused his attention--a freight train crawling on the outskirts or some disturbance in the street below.

Then he would resume his reverie as though enjoying his sense of immunity from the fret and jar of the world about him.

_Bruce Storrs.

_ The name of the young man he had met at the Country Club lingered disturbingly in his memory.

He had heard someone ask that night where Storrs came from, and Bud Henderson, his sponsor, had been ready with the answer, “Laconia, Ohio.

” Mills had been afraid to ask the question himself.

Long-closed doors swung open slowly along the dim corridor of memory and phantom shapes emerged--among them a figure Franklin Mills recognized as himself.

Swiftly he computed the number of years that had passed since, in his young manhood, he had spent a summer in the pleasant little town, sent there by his father to act as auditor of a manufacturing concern in which Franklin Mills III for a time owned an interest.

Marian Storrs was a lovely young being--vivacious, daring, already indifferent to the man to whom she had been married two years....

He had been a beast to take advantage of her, to accept all that she had yielded to him with a completeness and passion that touched him poignantly now as she lived again in his memory....

Was this young man, Bruce Storrs, her son?

He was a splendid specimen, distinctly handsome, with the air of breeding that Mills valued.

He turned from the window and walked idly about the room, only to return to his contemplation of the hazy distances.

The respect of his fellow man, one could see, meant much to him.

He was Franklin Mills, the fourth of the name in succession in the Mid-western city, enjoying an unassailable social position and able to command more cash at a given moment than any other man in the community.

Nothing was so precious to Franklin Mills as his peace of mind, and here was a problem that might forever menace that peace.

The hope that the young man himself knew nothing did not abate the hateful, hideous question was he John Storrs’s son or his own?

Surely Marian Storrs could not have told the boy of that old episode....

Nearly every piece of property in the city’s original mile square had at some time belonged to a Mills.

The earlier men of the name had been prominent in public affairs, but he had never been interested in politics and he never served on those bothersome committees that promote noble causes and pursue the public with subscription papers.

When Franklin Mills gave he gave liberally, but he preferred to make his contributions unsolicited.

It pleased him to be represented at the State Fair with cattle and saddle horses from Deer Trail Farm.

Like his father and grandfather, he kept in touch with the soil, and his farm, fifteen miles from his office, was a show place; his Jersey herd enjoyed a wide reputation.

The farm was as perfectly managed as his house and office.

Its carefully tended fields, his flocks and herds and the dignified Southern Colonial house were but another advertisement of his substantial character and the century-long identification of his name with the State.

His private office was so furnished as to look as little as possible like a place for the transaction of business.

There were easy lounging chairs, a long leathern couch, a bookcase, a taboret with cigars and cigarettes.

The flat-top desk, placed between two windows, contained nothing but an immaculate blotter and a silver desk set that evidently enjoyed frequent burnishing.

It was possible for him to come and go without traversing the other rooms of the suite.

Visitors who passed the office boy’s inspection and satisfied a prim stenographer that their errands were not frivolous found themselves in communication with Arthur Carroll, Mills’s secretary, a young man of thirty-five, trained as a lawyer, who spoke for his employer in all matters not demanding decisions of first importance.

Carroll was not only Mills’s confidential man of business, but when necessary he performed the duties of social secretary.

He was tactful, socially in demand as an eligible bachelor, and endowed with a genius for collecting information that greatly assisted Mills in keeping in touch with the affairs of the community.

Mills glanced at his watch and turned to press a button in a plate on the corner of his desk.

Carroll appeared immediately.

“You said Shep was coming?

” Mills inquired.

“Yes; he was to be here at five, but said he might be a little late.

” Mills nodded, asked a question about the survey of some land adjoining Deer Trail Farm for which he was negotiating, and listened attentively while Carroll described a discrepancy in the boundary lines.

“Is that all that stands in the way?

” Mills asked.

“Well,” said Carroll, “Parsons shows signs of bucking.

He’s thought of reasons, sentimental ones, for not selling.

He and his wife moved there when they were first married and their children were all born on the place.

” “Of course we have nothing to do with that,” remarked Mills, slipping an ivory paper knife slowly through his fingers.

“The old man is a failure, and the whole place is badly run down.

I really need it for pasture.

” “Oh, he’ll sell!

We just have to be a little patient,” Carroll replied.

“All right, but don’t close till the title’s cleared up.

I don’t buy law suits.

Come in, Shep.

” Shepherd Mills had appeared at the door during this talk.

His father had merely glanced at him, and Shepherd waited, hat in hand, his topcoat on his arm, till the discussion was ended.

“What’s that you’ve got there?

” his father asked, seating himself in a comfortable chair a little way from the desk.

In drawing some papers from the pocket of his overcoat, Shepherd dropped his hat, picked it up and laid it on the desk.

He was trying to appear at ease, and replied that it was a contract calling for a large order which the storage battery company had just made.

“We worked a good while to get that,” said the young man with a ring of pride in his voice.

“I thought you’d like to know it’s all settled.

” Mills put on his glasses, scanned the document with a practiced eye and handed it back.

“That’s good.

You’re running full capacity now?

” “Yes; we’ve got orders enough to keep us going full handed for several months.

” The young man’s tone was eager; he was clearly anxious for his father’s approval.

He had expected a little more praise for his success in getting the contract, but was trying to adjust himself to his father’s calm acceptance of the matter.

He drummed the edge of the desk as he recited certain figures as to conditions at the plant.

His father disconcertingly corrected one of his statements.

“Yes; you’re right, father,” Shepherd stammered.

“I got the July figures mixed up with the June report.

” Mills smiled indulgently; took a cigarette from a silver box on the taboret beside him and unhurriedly lighted it.

“You and Constance are coming over for dinner tonight?

” he asked.

“I think Leila said she’d asked you.

” His senior’s very calmness seemed to add to Shepherd’s nervousness.

He rose and laid his overcoat on the couch, drew out his handkerchief and wiped his forehead, remarking that it was warm for the season.

“I hadn’t noticed it,” his father remarked in the tone of one who is indifferent to changes of temperature.

“There’s a little matter I’ve been wanting to speak to you about,” Shepherd began.

“I thought it would be better to mention it here--you never like talking business at the house.

If it’s going to be done it ought to be started now, before the bad weather sets in.

” He paused, a little breathless, and Mills said, the least bit impatiently: “Do you mean that new unit at the plant?

I thought we’d settled that.

I thought you were satisfied you could get along this winter with the plant as it is.

” “Oh, no!

It’s not that!

” Shepherd hastily corrected.

“Of course that’s all settled.

This is quite a different matter.

I only want to suggest it now so you can think it over.

You see, our employees were all mightily pleased because you let them have the use of the Milton farm.

There’s quite a settlement grown up around the plant and the Milton land is so near they can walk to it.

I’ve kept tab this summer and about a hundred of the men go there Saturday afternoons and Sundays;

mostly married men who take their families.

I could see it made a big difference in the morale of the shop.

” He paused to watch the effect of his statements, but Mills made no sign.

He merely recrossed his legs, knocked the ash from his cigarette and nodded for his son to go on.

“I want you to know I appreciate your letting me use the property that way,” Shepherd resumed.

“I was out there a good deal myself, and those people certainly enjoyed themselves.

Now what’s in my mind is this, father”--he paused an instant and bent forward with boyish eagerness--“I’ve heard you say you didn’t mean to sell any lots in the Milton addition for several years--not until the street car line’s extended--and I thought since the factory’s so close to the farm, we might build some kind of a clubhouse the people could use the year round.

They can’t get any amusements without coming into town, and we could build the house near the south gate of the property, where our people could get to it easily.

They could have dances and motion pictures, and maybe a few lectures and some concerts, during the winter.

They’ll attend to all that themselves.

Please understand that I don’t mean this as a permanent thing.

The clubhouse needn’t cost much, so when you get ready to divide the farm the loss wouldn’t be great.

It might even be used in some way.

I just wanted to mention it; we can talk out the details after you’ve thought it over.

” In his anxiety to make himself clear Shepherd had stammered repeatedly.

He waited, his face flushed, his eyelids quivering, for some encouraging word from his father.

Mills dropped his cigarette into the tray before he spoke.

“What would such a house cost, Shep?

” “It can be built for twenty thousand dollars.

I got a young fellow in Freeman’s office to make me some sketches--Storrs--you met him at the country club; a mighty nice chap.

If you’ll just look at these----” Mills took the two letter sheets his son extended, one showing a floor plan, the other a rough sketch of the proposed building, inspected them indifferently and gave them back.

“If you’d like to keep them----” Shepherd began.

“No; that isn’t necessary.

I think we can settle the matter now.

It was all right for those people to use the farm as a playground during the summer, but this idea of building a house for them won’t do.

We’ve got to view these things practically, Shep.

You’re letting your sentimental feelings run away with you.

If I let you go ahead with that scheme, it would be unfair to all the other employers in town.

If you stop to think, you can see for yourself that for us to build such a clubhouse would cause dissatisfaction among other concerns I’m interested in.

And there’s another thing.

Your people have done considerable damage--breaking down the shrubbery and young trees I’d planted where I’d laid out the roads.

I hadn’t spoken of this, for I knew how much fun you got out of it, but as for spending twenty thousand dollars for a clubhouse and turning the whole place over to those people, it can’t be done!

” “Well, father, of course I can see your way of looking at it,” Shepherd said with a crestfallen air.

“I thought maybe, just for a few years----” “That’s another point,” Mills interrupted.

“You can’t give it to them and then take it away.

Such people are bound to be unreasonable.

Give them an inch and they take a mile.

You’ll find as you grow older that they have precious little appreciation of such kindnesses.

Your heart’s been playing tricks with your head.

I tell you, my dear boy, there’s nothing in it; positively nothing!

” Mills rose, struck his hands together smartly and laid them on his son’s shoulders, looking down at him with smiling tolerance.

Shepherd was nervously fumbling Storrs’s sketches, and as his father stepped back he hastily thrust them into his pocket.

“You may be right, father,” he said slowly, and with no trace of resentment.

“Storrs, you said?

” Mills inquired as he opened a cabinet door and took out his hat and light overcoat.

“Is he the young man Millie introduced me to?

” “Yes; that tall, fine-looking chap; a Tech man; just moved here--friend of Bud Henderson’s. ” “I wasn’t quite sure of the name.

He’s an architect, is he?

” asked Mills as he slowly buttoned his coat.

“Yes; I met him at the Freemans’ and had him for lunch at the club.

Freeman is keen about him.

” “He’s rather an impressive-looking fellow,” Mills replied.

“Expects to live here, does he?

” “Yes.

He has no relatives here; just thought the town offered a good opening.

His home was somewhere in Ohio, I think.

” “Yes; I believe I heard that,” Mills replied carelessly.

“You have your car with you?

” “Yes; the runabout.

I’ll skip home and dress and drive over with Connie.

We’re going to the Claytons’ later.

” When they reached the street Shepherd ordered up his father’s limousine and saw him into it, and waved his hand as it rolled away.

As he turned to seek his own car the smile faded from his face.

It was not merely that his father had refused to permit the building of the clubhouse, but that the matter had been brushed aside quite as a parent rejects some absurd proposal of an unreasoning child.

He strode along with the quick steps compelled by his short stature, smarting under what he believed to be an injustice, and ashamed of himself for not having combated the objections his father had raised.

The loss of shrubs or trees was nothing when weighed against the happiness of the people who had enjoyed the use of the farm.

He thought now of many things that he might have said in defence of his proposition; but he had never been able to hold his own in debate with his father.

His face burned with humiliation.

He regretted that within an hour he was to see his father again.

II

The interior of Franklin Mills’s house was not so forbidding as Henderson had hinted in his talk with Bruce.

It was really a very handsomely furnished, comfortable establishment that bore the marks of a sound if rather austere taste.

The house had been built in the last years of Mrs. Mills’s life, and if a distinctly feminine note was lacking in its appointments, this was due to changes made by Mills in keeping with the later tendency in interior decoration toward the elimination of nonessentials.

It was only a polite pretense that Leila kept house for her father.

Her inclinations were decidedly not domestic, and Mills employed and directed the servants, ordered the meals, kept track of expenditures and household bills, and paid them through his office.

He liked formality and chose well-trained servants capable of conforming to his wishes in this respect.

The library on the second floor was Mills’s favorite lounging place.

Here were books indicative of the cultivated and catholic taste of the owner, and above the shelves were ranged the family portraits, a considerable array of them, preserving the countenances of his progenitors.

Throughout the house there were pictures, chiefly representative work of contemporary French and American artists.

When Mills got tired of a picture or saw a chance to buy a better one by the same painter, he sold or gave away the discard.

He knew the contents of his house from cellar to garret--roved over it a good deal in his many lonely hours.

He came downstairs a few minutes before seven and from force of habit strolled through the rooms on a tour of inspection.

In keeping with his sense of personal dignity, he always put on his dinner coat in the evening, even when he was alone.

He rang and asked the smartly capped and aproned maid who responded whether his daughter was at home.

“Miss Leila went to the Country Club this afternoon, sir, and hasn’t come in yet.

She said she was dining here.

” “Thank you,” he replied colorlessly, and turned to glance over some new books neatly arranged on a table at the side of the living-room.

A

clock struck seven and on the last solemn stroke the remote titter of an electric bell sent the maid to the door.

“Mr. and Mrs. Shepherd Mills,” the girl announced in compliance with an established rule, which was not suspended even when Mills’s son and daughter-in-law were the guests.

“Shep fairly dragged me!

” Mrs. Mills exclaimed as she greeted her father-in-law.

“He’s in such terror of being late to one of your feasts!

I know I’m a fright.

” She lifted her hand to her hair with needless solicitude; it was perfectly arranged.

She wore an evening gown of sapphire blue chiffon,--an effective garment; she knew that it was effective.

Seeing that he was eyeing it critically, she demanded to know what he thought of it.

“You’re so fastidious, you know!

Shep never pays any attention to my clothes.

It’s a silly idea that women dress only for each other; it’s for captious men like you that we take so much trouble.

” “You’re quite perfectly turned out, I should say,” Mills remarked.

“That’s a becoming gown.

I don’t believe I’ve seen it before.

” Her father-in-law was regarding her quizzically, an ambiguous smile playing about his lips.

She was conscious that he never gave her his whole approval and she was piqued by her failure to evoke any expressions of cordiality from him.

Men usually liked her, or at least found her amusing, and she had never been satisfied that Franklin Mills either liked her or thought her clever.

It was still a source of bitterness that Mills had objected strongly to Shepherd’s marrying her.

His objections she attributed to snobbery; for her family was in nowise distinguished, and Constance, an only child, had made her own way socially chiefly through acquaintances and friendships formed in the Misses Palmers’ school, a local institution which conferred a certain social dignity upon its patrons.

She had never been able to break down Mills’s reserves, and the tone which she had adopted for her intercourse with him had been arrived at after a series of experiments in the first year of her marriage.

He suffered this a little stolidly.

There was a point of discretion beyond which she never dared venture.

She had once tried teasing him about a young widow, a visitor from the South for whom he had shown some partiality, and he hadn’t liked it, though he had taken the same sort of chaff from others in her presence with perfect good nature.

Shepherd, she realized perfectly, was a disappointment to his father.

Countless points of failure in the relationship of father and son were manifest to her, things of which Shepherd himself was unconscious.

It was Mills’s family pride that had prompted him to make Shepherd president of the storage battery company, and the same vanity was responsible for the house he had given Shepherd on his marriage--a much bigger house than the young couple needed.

He expected her to bear children that the continuity of the name might be unbroken, but the thought of bearing children was repugnant to her.

Still, the birth of an heir, to take the name of Franklin Mills, would undoubtedly heighten his respect for her--diminish the veiled hostility which she felt she aroused in him.

“Where’s Leila?

” asked Shepherd as dinner was announced and they moved toward the dining-room.

“She’ll be along presently,” Mills replied easily.

“Dear Leila!

” exclaimed Constance.

“You never disciplined her as you did Shep.

Shep would go to the stake before he’d turn up late.

” “Leila,” said Mills a little defensively, “is a law unto herself.

” “That’s why we all love the dear child!

” said Constance quickly.

“Not for worlds would I change her.

” To nothing was Mills so sensitive as to criticism of Leila, a fact which she should have remembered.

As they took their places Mills asked her, in the impersonal tone she hated, what the prospects were for a gay winter.

She was on the committee of the Assembly, whose entertainments were a noteworthy feature of every season.

There, too, was the Dramatic Club, equally exclusive in its membership, and Constance was on the play committee.

Mills listened with interest, or with the pretense of interest, as she gave him the benefit of her knowledge as to the winter’s social programme.

They were half through the dinner when Leila arrived.

With a cheerful “Hello, everybody,” she flung off her wrap and without removing her hat, sank into the chair Shepherd drew out for her.

“Sorry, Dada, but Millie and I played eighteen holes this afternoon;

got a late start and were perfectly starved when we finished and just had to have tea.

And some people came along and we got to talking and it was dark before we knew it.

” “How’s your game coming on?

” her father asked.

“Not so bad, Dada.

Millie’s one of these lazy players; she doesn’t care whether she wins or loses, and I guess I’m too temperamental to be a good golfer.

” “I thought Millie was pretty strong on temperament herself,” remarked Shepherd.

“Well, Millie is and she isn’t. She’s not the sort that flies all to pieces when anything goes wrong.

” “Millie’s a pretty fine girl,” declared Shepherd.

“Millicent really has charm,” remarked Constance, though without enthusiasm.

“Millie’s a perfect darling!

” said Leila.

“She’s so lovely to her father and mother!

They’re really very nice.

Everybody knocks Doc Harden, but he’s not a bad sort.

It’s a shame the way people treat them.

Mrs. Harden’s a dear, sweet thing; plain and sensible and doesn’t look pained when I cuss a little.

” She gave her father a sly look, but he feigned inattention.

“Dada, how do you explain Millie?

” “Well, I don’t,” replied Mills, with a broad smile at the abruptness of the question.

“It’s just as well that everything and everybody on this planet can’t be explained and don’t have to be.

I’ve come to a time of life when I’m a little fed up on things that can be reduced to figures.

I want to be mystified!

” Leila pointed her finger at him across the table.

“I’ll say you like mystery!

If there was ever a human being who just had to have the facts, you’re it!

I know because I’ve tried hiding milliners’ bills from you.

” “Well, I usually pay them,” Mills replied good-humoredly.

“Now that you’ve spoken of bills, I’d like to ask you----” “Don’t!

” Leila ejaculated, placing her hands over her ears with simulated horror.

“I know what you’re going to say.

You’re going to ask why I bought that new squirrel coat.

Well, winter’s coming and it’s to keep me from freezing to death.

” “Well, the house is well heated,” Mills replied dryly.

“The answer is for you to spend a little time at home.

” Leila was a spoiled child and lived her own life with little paternal interference.

After Mills had failed utterly to keep her in school, or rather to find any school in which she would stay, he had tried tutors with no better results.

He had finally placed her for a year in New York with a woman who made a business of giving the finishing touches to the daughters of the provincial rich.

There were no lessons to learn which these daughters didn’t want to learn, but Leila had heard operas and concerts to a point where she really knew something of music, and she had acquired a talent that greatly amused her father for talking convincingly of things she really knew nothing about.

He found much less delight in her appalling habit of blurting out things better left unsaid, and presumably foreign to the minds of well-bred young women.

Her features were a feminized version of her father’s; she was dark like him and with the same gray eyes; but here the resemblance ended.

She was alert, restless, quick of speech and action.

The strenuous life of her long days was expressing itself in little nervous twitchings of her hands and head.

Her father, under his benignant gaze, was noting these things now.

“I hope you’re staying in tonight, Leila?

” he said.

“It seems to me you’re not sleeping enough.

” “Well, no, Dada.

I was going to the Claytons’.

I told Fred Thomas he might come for me at nine.

” “Thomas?

” Mills questioned.

“I don’t know that I’d choose him for an escort.

” “Oh, Freddy’s all right!

” Leila replied easily.

“He’s always asking me to go places with him, and I’d turned him down until I was ashamed to refuse any more.

” “I think,” said her father, “it might be as well to begin refusing again.

What about him, Shep?

” “He’s a good sort, I think,” Shepherd replied after a hasty glance at his wife.

“But of course----” “Of course, he’s divorced,” interposed Constance, “and he hasn’t been here long.

But people I know in Chicago say he was well liked there.

What is it he has gone into, Shep?

” “He came here to open a branch of a lumber company--a large concern, I think,” Shepherd replied.

“I believe he _has_ been divorced, Father, if that’s what’s troubling you.

” “Oh, he told me all about the divorce!

” interposed Leila imperturbably.

“His wife got crazy about another man and--biff!