* * * * * It was at breakfast that her father heard one Milt Daggett address the

daughter of the Boltwoods as "Claire." The father was surprised into

clearing his throat, and attacking his oatmeal with a zealousness

unnatural in a man who regarded breakfast-foods as moral rather than

interesting.

While he was lighting a cigar, and Claire was paying the bill, Mr.

Boltwood stalked Milt, cleared his throat all over again, and said,

"Nice morning."

It was the first time the two men had talked unchaperoned by Claire.

"Yes. We ought to have a good run, sir." The "sir" came hard. The

historian puts forth a theory that Milt had got it out of fiction. "We

might go up over Mount Washburn. Take us up to ten thousand feet."

"Uh, you said--didn't Miss Boltwood tell me that you are going to

Seattle, too?"

"Yes."

"Friends there, no doubt?"

Milt grinned irresistibly. "Not a friend. But I'm going to make 'em. I'm

going to take up engineering, and some French, I guess, at the

university there."

"Ah. Really?"

"Yes. Been too limited in my ambition. Don't see why I shouldn't get out

and build railroads and power plants and roads--Siberia, Africa, all

sorts of interesting places."

"Quite right. Quite right. Uh, ah, I, oh, I---- Have you seen Miss

Boltwood?"

"I saw Miss Boltwood in the office."

"Oh yes. Quite so. Uh--ah, here she is."

When the Gomez had started, Mr. Boltwood skirmished, "This young man----

Do you think you better let him call you by your Christian name?"

"Why not? I call him 'Milt.' 'Mr. Daggett' is too long a handle to use

when a man is constantly rescuing you from the perils of the deep or

hoboes or bears or something. Oh, I haven't told you. Poor old Milt, his

cat was killed----"

"Yes, yes, dolly, you may tell me about that in due time, but let's

stick to this social problem for a moment. Do you think you ought to be

too intimate with him?"

"He's only too self-respecting. He wouldn't take advantage----"

"I'm quite aware of that. I'm not speaking on your behalf, but on his.

I'm sure he's a very amiable chap, and ambitious. In fact---- Did you

know that he has saved up money to attend a university?"

"When did he tell you that? How long has he been planning---- I thought

that I----"

"Just this morning; just now."

"Oh! I'm relieved."

"I don't quite follow you, dolly, but---- Where was I? Do you realize

what a demure tyrant you are? If you can drag me from New York to the

aboriginal wilds, and I did not like that oatmeal, what will you do to

this innocent? I want to protect him!"

"You better! Because I'm going to carve him, and paint him, and possibly

spoil him. The creating of a man--of one who knows how to handle

life--is so much more wonderful than creating absurd pictures or statues

or stories. I'll nag him into completing college. He'll learn

dignity--or perhaps lose his simplicity and be ruined; and then I'll

marry him off to some nice well-bred pink-face, like Jeff Saxton's

pretty cousin--who may turn him into a beastly money-grubber; and I'm

monkeying with destiny, and I ought to be slapped, and I realize it, and

I can't help it, and all my latent instinct as a feminine meddler is

aroused, and--golly, I almost went off that curve!"




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