"You do the answering?"

"Practically all of it, by form-letters turned out in the printing
department. For instance, Letter One is coughs and colds; Two,
headaches; Three, stomach; and so on. As soon as a symp-letter is read
the girl marks it with the form-letter number, underscores the address,
and it goes across to the letter room where the right answer is mailed,
advising the prospect to take Certina. Orders with cash go direct to the
shipping department. If the symp-writer wants personal advice that the
form-letters don't give, I send the inquiry upstairs to Dr. De Vito.
He's a regular graduate physician who puts in half his time as our
Medical Adviser. We can clear up three thousand letters a day, here."

"I can readily see that my father couldn't attend to them personally,"
said Hal, smiling.

"And it's just as good this way. Certina is what the prospects want and
need. It makes no difference who prescribes it. This is the Chief's own
device for handling the correspondence."

"The Chief?"

"Your father. We all call him that, all the old hands."

Hal's glance skimmed over the fresh young face, and the brilliant eyes.
"You wouldn't call yourself a very old hand, Miss Neal."

"Seven years I've worked for the Chief, and I never want to work in a
better place. He's been more than good to me."