It was a question Sheridan considered of no present importance, but his wife had suggested it--though vaguely--and he had meant to speak to Roscoe about it.

However, Roscoe had not come into his father's office for several days, and when Sheridan had seen his son at home there had been no opportunity.
He waited until the greater part of his day's work was over, toward four o'clock, and then went down to Roscoe's office, which was on a lower floor.

He found several men waiting for business interviews in an outer room of the series Roscoe occupied; and he supposed that he would find his son busy with others, and that his question would have to be postponed, but when he entered the door marked "R.

C.Sheridan.
Private," Roscoe was there alone.
He was sitting with his back to the door, his feet on a window-sill, and he did not turn as his father opened the door.
"Some pretty good men out there waitin' to see you, my boy," said Sheridan.

"What's the matter ?" "Nothing," Roscoe answered indistinctly, not moving.
"Well, I guess that's all right, too.