"
Old Anthony chuckled.
"What!" he exclaimed, "after the bath-house and gymnasium you have
built at the mill? And the laundries for the women--which I
believe they do not use. Surely, Howard, you would not accuse the
dear people of ingratitude?"
"They are beginning to use them, sir." Howard, in his forties, still
addressed his father as "Sir!"
"Then you admit your defeat beforehand."
"You are rather a formidable antagonist."
"Antagonist!" Anthony repeated in mock protest. "I am a quiet
onlooker at the game. I am amused, naturally. You must understand,"
he said to Lily, "that this is a matter of a principle with your
father. He believes that he should serve. My whole contention is
that the people don't want to be served. They want to be bossed.
They like it; it's all they know. And they're suspicious of a man
who puts his hand into his own pocket instead of into theirs."
He smiled and sipped his wine.
"Good wine, this," he observed. "I'm buying all I can lay my hands
on, against the approaching drought."
Lily's old distrust of her grandfather revived. Why did people
sharpen like that with age? Age should be mellow, like old wine.
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