"Bryce, lad," he
said presently, "do you ever wonder why I work so hard and barely
manage to spare the time to go camping with you in vacation time?"
"Why don't you take it easy, Dad? You do work awfully hard, and I
have wondered about it."
"I have to work hard, my son, because I started something a long time
ago, when work was fun. And now I can't let go. I employ too many
people who are dependent on me for their bread and butter. When they
plan a marriage or the building of a home or the purchase of a
cottage organ, they have to figure me in on the proposition. I didn't
have a name for the part I played in these people's lives until the
other night when I was helping you with your algebra. I'm the unknown
quantity."
"Oh, no," Bryce protested. "You're the known quantity."
Cardigan smiled. "Well, maybe I am," he admitted. "I've always tried
to be. And if I have succeeded, then you're the unknown quantity,
Bryce, because some day you'll have to take my place; they will have
to depend upon you when I am gone. Listen to me, son. You're only a
boy, and you can't understand everything I tell you now, but I want
you to remember what I tell you, and some day understanding will come
to you. You mustn't fail the people who work for you--who are
dependent upon your strength and brains and enterprises to furnish
them with an opportunity for life, liberty, and the pursuit of
happiness.
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