"In a way I am in sympathy with you,"
he said. "Although all through my life I have served money I have not
been owned by it. You are not to suppose that men like me have not
something beyond money in mind."
The old plough maker looked away over McGregor's shoulder to where the
leaves of the trees shook in the wind from the lake. "There have been
men and great leaders who have understood the silent competent
servants of wealth," he said half petulantly. "I want you to
understand these men. I should like to see you become such a one
yourself--not for the wealth it would bring but because in the end you
would thus serve all men. You would get at truth thus. The power that
is in you would be conserved and used more intelligently."
"To be sure, history has taken little or no account of the men of whom
I speak. They have passed through life unnoticed, doing great work
quietly."
The plough maker paused. Although McGregor had said nothing the older
man felt that the interview was not going as it should. "I should like
to know what you have in mind, what in the end you hope to gain for
yourself or for these men," he said somewhat sharply. "There is after
all no point to our beating about the bush."
McGregor said nothing. Arising from the bench he began again to walk
along the path with Ormsby at his side.
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