The Lever | Page 4

situation, and I will telephone you if I need you
here after I see the Senator."
The two men offered a striking contrast in their personalities. Robert
Gorham was a large man, about fifty years of age, whose whole bearing,
when at rest, suggested the idealist rather than the man of action. His
head was large and intellectual, his chin strong, his mouth firm,
conveying at once an impression of strength and of impenetrable
depth--an inner being which defied complete analysis. Behind the
impassive exterior there was a suggestion of latent reserve force, but it
was not until some thought or word penetrated below the surface that
the real man was revealed. Then it was that the impassive face lighted
up, that the quiet gray eyes flashed fire, that the head bent forward
decisively, and the strong-willed, large-brained leader of men stood
forth.
Covington, on the other hand, ten years Gorham's junior, was slight,
though tall, and was always, in manner, speech, and dress, most
carefully adjusted. He was an organizer of men, as Gorham was the

organizer of companies. Gorham worked so quietly that his purpose
seemed to accomplish itself; Covington won his success by a pitiless
force which left flotsam in its wake. Gorham was beloved and trusted,
Covington was respected for his abilities but dreaded by his
subordinates. It had been necessary for Gorham to supplement himself
with a man who possessed the genius of taking hold of the individual
organizations assimilated by the Consolidated Companies, and
amalgamating those engaged in similar lines into perfect, economic
wholes; and Covington's rare service had proved the wisdom of
Gorham's selection.
Covington noted Alice's disappointment when her father cut short their
interview upon her entrance, though Gorham himself was entirely
oblivious to it.
"I'll tell you all about it when we meet next time," he said to her in a
low tone as he was leaving. "It is always an inspiration to me to talk
these matters over with you."
Alice smiled gratefully but started at the word he used. This man,
acknowledged by her father to be one of the cleverest in the business
world, said that she was an "inspiration" to him. Could this be possible!
This, then, was what Eleanor had meant, this was woman's mission.
But still, she insisted to herself, she would rather be the recipient than
the giver.
As Covington left the room Gorham turned to Alice. "Now I can give
myself wholly to you," he said, holding out his arms affectionately.
"Why did you stop talking with Mr. Covington as soon as I came in?"
Alice asked, reproachfully. "Was it a private matter?"
"No indeed," he laughed, patting her affectionately on the head; "it was
just plain business."
"But I wanted to hear it," she persisted.
"It would have meant nothing to you," her father answered. "If you had

been my son that would be different, but a woman's sphere is outside
the business world. Leave that to the men. Now tell me what has
happened to-day."
Alice knew her father too well to persist further. "Eleanor and I met
Allen Sanford while we were out driving this afternoon," she said.
"Did you?" he asked, with interest. "I knew he was in Washington and
should have told you. His father wrote me about him last week, and I
was planning to invite him here. How has he developed since we used
to know him?"
"Splendidly," Alice answered. "He's a big strapping fellow with the
same handsome, happy face. I should have known him anywhere. He
wants to get started in business, and his father wants him to go into the
diplomatic service."
"So Stephen wrote me." Gorham laughed quietly, turning to his wife,
who had entered a moment before with Patricia. "The boy's father is the
worst enemy he has. He has thoroughly spoiled him all his life, and
now expects him to do great things. He scores him because he has no
initiative, and the first time the youngster tries to exercise it by
expressing his preference for business instead of diplomacy, Stephen
calls him obstinate and ungrateful. Now he wants me to talk with Allen
and persuade him that his father is right."
"If you are not otherwise engaged you'll have a chance to-morrow
evening," remarked Mrs. Gorham; "we have invited him to dine with
us."
"Good; I shall be glad to see the boy, and can acquit myself of my
obligation to his father at the same time. Hello, Mistress Patricia," he
added, catching the child in his arms. "What has my little tyrant been
up to?"
"Call me 'Lady Pat,'" she said, grandly. "He named me that."
"Who did?" her father asked, his mind diverted from the previous

conversation.
"Mr. Sanford." Patricia rolled her eyes impressively. "Oh, he's the
grandest thing! He