Mr.Langham had been troubled with insomnia of late, and so it often happened that when Alice returned from a ball she would find him sitting with a novel, or his game of solitaire, and Hope, who had crept downstairs from her bed, dozing in front of the open fire and keeping him silent company.The father and the younger daughter were very close to one another, and had grown especially so since his wife had died and his son and heir had gone to college.This fourth member of the family was a great bond of sympathy and interest between them, and his triumphs and escapades at Yale were the chief subjects of their conversation.
It was told by the directors of a great Western railroad, who had come to New York to discuss an important question with Mr.
Langham, that they had been ushered downstairs one night into his basement, where they had found the President of the Board and his daughter Hope working out a game of football on the billiard table.They had chalked it off into what corresponded to five-yard lines, and they were hurling twenty-two chess-men across it in ``flying wedges'' and practising the several tricks which young Langham had intrusted to his sister under an oath of secrecy.The sight filled the directors with the horrible fear that business troubles had turned the President's mind, but after they had sat for half an hour perched on the high chairs around the table, while Hope excitedly explained the game to them, they decided that he was wiser than they knew, and each left the house regretting he had no son worthy enough to bring ``that young girl'' into the Far West.
``You are home early,'' said Mr.Langham, as Alice stood above him pulling at her gloves.``I thought you said you were going on to some dance.''
``I was tired,'' his daughter answered.
``Well, when I'm out,'' commented Hope, ``I won't come home at eleven o'clock.Alice always was a quitter.''
``A what?'' asked the older sister.
``Tell us what you had for dinner,'' said Hope.``I know it isn't nice to ask,'' she added, hastily, ``but I always like to know.''
``I don't remember,'' Miss Langham answered, smiling at her father, ``except that he was very much sunburned and had most perplexing eyes.''
``Oh, of course,'' assented Hope, ``I suppose you mean by that that you talked with some man all through dinner.Well, I think there is a time for everything.''
``Father,'' interrupted Miss Langham, ``do you know many engineers--I mean do you come in contact with them through the railroads and mines you have an interest in? I am rather curious about them,'' she said, lightly.``They seem to be a most picturesque lot of young men.''
``Engineers? Of course,'' said Mr.Langham, vaguely, with the ten of spades held doubtfully in air.``Sometimes we have to depend upon them altogether.We decide from what the engineering experts tell us whether we will invest in a thing or not.''
``I don't think I mean the big men of the profession,'' said his daughter, doubtfully.``I mean those who do the rough work.The men who dig the mines and lay out the railroads.Do you know any of them?''
``Some of them,'' said Mr.Langham, leaning back and shuffling the cards for a new game.``Why?''
``Did you ever hear of a Mr.Robert Clay?''
Mr.Langham smiled as he placed the cards one above the other in even rows.``Very often,'' he said.``He sails to-morrow to open up the largest iron deposits in South America.He goes for the Valencia Mining Company.Valencia is the capital of Olancho, one of those little republics down there.''
``Do you--are you interested in that company?'' asked Miss Langham, seating herself before the fire and holding out her hands toward it.``Does Mr.Clay know that you are?''
``Yes--I am interested in it,'' Mr.Langham replied, studying the cards before him, ``but I don't think Clay knows it--nobody knows it yet, except the president and the other officers.'' He lifted a card and put it down again in some indecision.``It's generally supposed to be operated by a company, but all the stock is owned by one man.As a matter of fact, my dear children,''
exclaimed Mr.Langham, as he placed a deuce of clubs upon a deuce of spades with a smile of content, ``the Valencia Mining Company is your beloved father.''
``Oh,'' said Miss Langham, as she looked steadily into the fire.
Hope tapped her lips gently with the back of her hand to hide the fact that she was sleepy, and nudged her father's elbow.``You shouldn't have put the deuce there,'' she said, ``you should have used it to build with on the ace.''