room to the little cubby-hole at the other end. But Sam Hupp's
plump, keen, good-humored face did not greet him as he entered.
The little room was deserted. Frowning, Jock sank into the empty
desk chair. He cradled his head in his hands, tilted the chair,
pursed his mouth over the slender white cylinder and squinted his
eyes up toward the lazy blue spirals of smoke--the very picture
of content and satisfaction.

Hupp was in attending some conference in the Old Man's office, of
course. He wished they'd hurry. The business of the week was being
boiled-down there. Those conferences were great cauldrons into
which the day's business, or the week's, was dumped, to be boiled,
simmered, stirred, skimmed, cooled. Jock had never been privileged
to attend one of these meetings. Perhaps by this time next week he
might have a spoon in the stirring too--

There came the murmur of voices as a door was opened. The voices
came nearer. Then quick footsteps. Jock recognized them. He rose,
smiling. Sam Hupp, vibrating electric energy, breezed in.

"Oh--hello!" he said, surprised. Jock's smile widened to a grin.
"You back?"

"Hello, Hupp," he said, coolly. It was the first time that he had
omitted the prefix. "You just bet I'm back."

There flashed across Sam Hupp's face a curious little look. The
next instant it was gone.

"Well," said Jock, and took a long breath.