For the first time in his life Cowperwood felt conscious of having been in the presence of that interesting social phenomenon—­the outraged sentiment of a parent.  While he had no absolute knowledge as to why Butler had been so enraged, he felt that Aileen was the contributing cause.  He himself was a father.  His boy, Frank, Jr., was to him not so remarkable.  But little Lillian, with her dainty little slip of a body and bright-aureoled head, had always appealed to him.  She was going to be a charming woman one day, he thought, and he was going to do much to establish her safely.  He used to tell her that she had “eyes like buttons,” “feet like a pussy-cat,” and hands that were “just five cents’ worth,” they were so little.  The child admired her father and would often stand by his chair in the library or the sitting-room, or his desk in his private office, or by his seat at the table, asking him questions.

This attitude toward his own daughter made him see clearly how Butler might feel toward Aileen.  He wondered how he would feel if it were his own little Lillian, and still he did not believe he would make much fuss over the matter, either with himself or with her, if she were as old as Aileen.  Children and their lives were more or less above the willing of parents, anyhow, and it would be a difficult thing for any parent to control any child, unless the child were naturally docile-minded and willing to be controlled.

It also made him smile, in a grim way, to see how fate was raining difficulties on him.  The Chicago fire, Stener’s early absence, Butler, Mollenhauer, and Simpson’s indifference to Stener’s fate and his.  And now this probable revelation in connection with Aileen.  He could not be sure as yet, but his intuitive instincts told him that it must be something like this.

Now he was distressed as to what Aileen would do, say if suddenly she were confronted by her father.  If he could only get to her!  But if he was to meet Butler’s call for his loan, and the others which would come yet to-day or on the morrow, there was not a moment to lose.  If he did not pay he must assign at once.  Butler’s rage, Aileen, his own danger, were brushed aside for the moment.  His mind concentrated wholly on how to save himself financially.

He hurried to visit George Waterman; David Wiggin, his wife’s brother, who was now fairly well to do; Joseph Zimmerman, the wealthy dry-goods dealer who had dealt with him in the past; Judge Kitchen, a private manipulator of considerable wealth; Frederick Van Nostrand, the State treasurer, who was interested in local street-railway stocks, and others.  Of all those to whom he appealed one was actually not in a position to do anything for him; another was afraid; a third was calculating eagerly to drive a hard bargain; a fourth was too deliberate, anxious to have much time.  All scented the true value of his situation, all wanted time to consider, and he had no time to consider.  Judge Kitchen did