him. Lester in revising the property after purchase had had a conservatory built on one side not unlike the one at home in Cincinnati. That same
night he sat down and wrote Lester asking if he would not like to dine
with him at the Union Club. He was only in town for a day or two, and he
would like to see him again. There was some feeling, he knew, but there
was a proposition he would like to talk to him about. Would he come, say, on Thursday?
On the receipt of this letter Lester frowned and fell into a brown study. He had never really been healed of the wound that his father had given him.
He had never been comfortable in his mind since Robert had deserted him
so summarily. He realised now that the stakes his brother had been
playing for were big. But, after all, he had been his brother, and if he had been in Robert's place at the time, he would not have done as he had
done; at least he hoped not. Now Robert wanted to see him.
He thought once of not answering at all. Then he thought he would write
and say no. But a curious desire to see Robert again, to hear what he had to say, to listen to the proposition he had to offer, came over him; he
decided to write yes. It could do no harm. He knew it could do no good.
They might agree to let bygones be bygones, but the damage had been
done. Could a broken bowl be mended and called whole? It might be
CALLED whole, but what of it? Was it not broken and mended? He
wrote and intimated that he would come.
On the Thursday in question Robert called up from the Auditorium to
remind him of the engagement. Lester listened curiously to the sound of
his voice. "All right," he said, "I'll be with you." At noon he went downtown, and there, within the exclusive precincts of the Union Club,
the two brothers met and looked at each other again. Robert was thinner
than when Lester had seen him last, and a little greyer. His eyes were
bright and steely, but there were crow's-feet on either side. His manner
was quick, keen, dynamic. Lester was noticeably of another type—solid,
brusque, and indifferent. Men spoke of Lester these days as a little hard.
Robert's keen blue eyes did not disturb him in the least—did not affect
him in any way. He saw his brother just as he was, for he had the larger
philosophic and interpretative insight; but Robert could not place Lester exactly. He could not fathom just what had happened to him in these
years. Lester was stouter, not grey, for some reason, but sandy and ruddy, looking like a man who was fairly well satisfied to take life as he found it.
Lester looked at his brother with a keen, steady eye. The latter shifted a little, for he was restless. He could see that there was no loss of that
mental force and courage which had always been predominant
characteristics in Lester's make-up.
"I thought I'd like to see you again, Lester," Robert remarked, after they had clasped hands in the customary grip. "It's been a long time now—
nearly eight years, hasn't it?"
"About that," replied Lester. "How are things with you?"
"Oh, about the same. You've been fairly well, I see."
"Never sick," said Lester. "A little cold now and then. I don't often go to bed with anything. How's your wife?"
"Oh, Margaret's fine."
"And the children?"
"We don't see much of Ralph and Berenice since they married, but the others are around more or less. I suppose your wife is all right," he said hesitatingly. It was difficult ground for Robert.
Lester eyed him without a change of expression.
"Yes," he replied. "She enjoys pretty fair health. She's quite well at present."
They drifted mentally for a few moments, while Lester inquired after the
business, and Amy, Louise, and Imogene. He admitted frankly that he
neither saw nor heard from them nowadays. Robert told him what he
could.
"The thing that I was thinking of in connection with you, Lester," said Robert finally, "is this matter of the Western Crucible Steel Company.
You haven't been sitting there as a director in person I notice, but your attorney, Watson, has been acting for you. Clever man, that. The
management isn't right—we all know that. We need a practical steel man
at the head of it, if the thing is ever going to pay properly. I have voted my stock with yours right along because the propositions made by
Watson have been right. He agrees with me that things ought to be
changed. Now I have a chance to buy seventy shares held by Rossiter's
widow. That with yours and mine would give us control of the company. I
would like to have you take them, though it doesn't make a bit of
difference so long as it's in the family. You can put any one you please in for president, and we'll make the thing come out right."
Lester smiled. It was a pleasant proposition. Watson had told him that
Robert's interests were co-operating with him. Lester had long suspected
that Robert would like to make up. This was the olive branch—the
control of a property worth in the neighbourhood of a million and a half.
"That's very nice of you," said Lester solemnly. "It's a rather liberal thing to do. What makes you want to do it now?"
"Well, to tell you the honest truth, Lester," replied Robert, "I never did feel right about that will business. I never did feel right about that
secretary-treasurership and some other things that have happened. I don't want to rake up the past—you smile at that—but I can't help telling you
how I feel. I've been pretty ambitious in the past. I was pretty ambitious just about the time that father died to get this United Carriage scheme
under way, and I was afraid you might not like it. I have thought since
that I ought not to have done it, but I did. I suppose you're not anxious to hear any more about that old affair. This other thing though—"
"Might be handed out as a sort of compensation," put in Lester quietly.
"Not exactly that, Lester—though it may have something of that in it. I know these things don't matter very much to you now. I know that the
time to do things was years ago—not now. Still I thought sincerely that
you might be interested in this proposition. It might lead to other things.
Frankly, I thought it might patch up matters between us. We're brothers
after all."
"Yes," said Lester, "we're brothers."
He was thinking as he said this of the irony of the situation. How much
had this sense of brotherhood been worth in the past? Robert had
practically forced him into his present relationship, and while Jennie had been really the only one to suffer, he could not help feeling angry. It was true that Robert had not cut him out of his one-fourth of his father's
estate, but certainly he had not helped him to get it, and now Robert was thinking that this offer of his might mend things. It hurt him—Lester—a
little. It irritated him. Life was strange.
"I can't see it, Robert," he said finally and determinedly. "I can appreciate the motive that prompts you to make this offer. But I can't see the wisdom of my taking it. Your opportunity is your opportunity. I don't want it. We can make all the changes you suggest if you take the stock. I'm rich
enough anyhow. Bygones are bygones. I'm perfectly willing to talk with
you from time to time. That's all you want. This other thing is simply a
sop, with which to plaster an old wound. You want my friendship and so