"If we ever do run!" muttered the superintendent to himself
as he drove away.

Armorer ran his sharp eye over the buildings of the
Lossing Art Furniture Manufacturing Company, from the ugly
square brick box that was the nucleus--the egg, so to speak--
from which the great concern had been hatched, to the handsome
new structures with their great arched windows and red mortar.
"Pretty property, very pretty property," thought Armorer;
"wonder if that story Marston tells is true!" The story
was to the effect that a few weeks before his last sickness
the older Lossing had taken his son to look at the buildings,
and said, "Harry, this will all be yours before long.
It is a comfort to me to think that every workman I have is
the better, not the worse, off for my owning it; there's no
blood or dirt on my money; and I leave it to you to keep it
clean and to take care of the men as well as the business."

"Now, wasn't he a d---- fool!" said Armorer, cheerfully, taking out
his note-book to mark,

"_See abt road M--D-- _"


And he went in. Harry greeted him with exceeding cordiality
and a fine blush. Armorer explained that he had come
to speak to him about the proposed street-car ordinances;
he (Armorer) always liked to deal with principals and
without formality; now, couldn't they come, representing the