HAROLD PLAYS THE RAVEN.

Mason Compton, president and general manager, sat in his private office
in the works of the International Machine Company, chewing upon an
unlighted cigar and occasionally running his fingers through his
iron-gray hair as he compared and recompared two statements which lay
upon the desk before him.

"Damn strange," he muttered as he touched a button beneath the edge of
his desk. A boy entered the room. "Ask Mr. Bince if he will be good
enough to step in here a moment, please," said Compton; and a moment
later, when Harold Bince entered, the older man leaned back in his chair
and motioned the other to be seated.

"I can't understand these statements, Harold," said Compton. "Here is
one for August of last year and this is this August's statement of
costs. We never had a better month in the history of this organization
than last month, and yet our profits are not commensurate with the
volume of business that we did. That's the reason I sent for these cost
statements and have compared them, and I find that our costs have
increased out of all proportions to what is warranted. How do you
account for it?"

"Principally the increased cost of labor," replied Bince. "The same
holds true of everybody else. Every manufacturer in the country is in
the same plight we are."

"I know," agreed Compton, "that that is true to some measure. Both
labor and raw materials have advanced, but we have advanced our prices
correspondingly. In some instances it seems to me that our advance in