here will make this go between you, as you made the other go."

The door closed on the young man.

"Will he make good, Jack?" said the father, anxiously.

"Will any of us make good?"

"You will, Jack, I know. You can stick."

"Yes, I can stick, I suppose, but, after all--well, we'll have a go
at it, anyway. But, like Tony, I feel like saying, 'Don't expect too
much.'"

"Only your best, Jack, that's all. Take three months, six months, a
year, and get hold of the office end of the business. You have brains
enough. I want a General Manager right now, Wickes is hardly up to it.
He knows the books and he knows the works but he knows nothing else. He
doesn't know men nor markets. He is an office man pure and simple, and
he's old, too old. The fact is, Jack, I have to be my own Manager inside
and outside. My foremen are good, loyal, reliable fellows, but they only
know their orders. I want someone to stand beside me. The plant has been
doubled in capacity during the war. We did a lot of war work--aeroplane
parts. We got the spruce in the raw and worked it up, good work, too, if
I do say it myself. No better was done."

"I know something about that, Dad. I had a day with Badgley in Toronto.
I know something about it, and I know where the money went, too, Dad."

"The money? Of course, I couldn't take the money--how could I with my