"Excuse me," went on Mr. Peton Gale, "but Mr. Ware and I got to
talking it over on our way to the station--the matter of having
you in our company, Mr. Swift--and we concluded that it was worth
twenty-five thousand dollars a year for us to have you. So I came
back--"

"It isn't of the slightest use, Mr. Gale, I assure you," said
Tom, a bit heatedly, for he did not like the persistency of this
man, nor did he like his coming on the factory grounds
unannounced and in this secret manner. "I told you I could not
accept your offer. It is not altogether a matter of money. My
word was final."

"Oh very well, if you put it that way," said Mr. Gale stiffly,
"of course there is nothing more to say. But I thought perhaps
you did not consider we had offered you enough and--"

"Your offer is fair enough from a financial standpoint," said
Tom; "but I simply cannot accept it. I have other plans.
Jackson!" he called to one of his mechanics who was passing,
"kindly see Mr. Gale to the gate, and then let me know how it was
any one came in here without a permit."

"Yes, sir," said the mechanic, as he stood significantly
waiting.

"There was no one at the gate when I came in," said Mr. Gale,
and his manner was antagonizing. "I wanted to speak to you--to
ask you to reconsider your offer--so I came back."