arm.

"T. A., I don't know anything about logic. It is a hot-house
plant. But common sense is a field flower, and I've gathered
whole bunches of it in my years of business experience. I'm not
going down to South America for a lark. I'm going because the
time is ripe to go. I'm going because the future of our business
needs it. I'm going because it's a job to be handled by the most
experienced salesman on our staff. And I'm just that. I say it
because it's true. Your father, T. A., used to see things
straighter and farther than any business man I ever knew. Since
his death made me a partner in this firm, I find myself, when I'm
troubled or puzzled, trying to see a situation as he'd see it if
he were alive. It's like having an expert stand back of you in a
game of cards, showing you the next move. That's the way I'm
playing this hand. And I think we're going to take most of the
tricks away from Fat Ed Meyers."

T. A. Buck's eyes traveled from Emma McChesney's earnest, glowing
face to the hand that rested on his arm. He reached over and
gently covered that hand with his own.

"I suppose you must be right, little woman. You always are.
Dad was the founder of this business. It was the pride of his
life. That word `founder' has two meanings. I never want to be
responsible for its second meaning in connection with this
concern."

"You never will be, T. A."