unpleasant, though so excellently and formally done.

"Thank you, father," replied Bonbright Foote VII. "I hope I shall be
of some use to you."

"Your office is ready for you," said his father, stepping to a door
which he unlocked with the gravity of a man laying a corner stone.
"This door," said he, "has not been opened since I took my place at
the head of the business--since I moved from the desk you are to
occupy to the one in this room. It will not be closed again until the
time arrives for you to assume command. We have--we Footes--always
regarded this open door as a patent token of partnership between
father and son."

Young Foote was well acquainted with this--as a piece of his family's
regalia. He knew he was about to enter and to labor in the office of
the heir apparent, a room which had been tenantless since the death
of his grandfather and the consequent coronation of his father. Such
was the custom. For twelve years that office had been closed and
waiting. None had ventured into it, except for a janitor whose weekly
dustings and cleanings had been performed with scrupulous care. He
knew that Bonbright Foote VI had occupied the room for seventeen
years. Before that it had stood vacant eleven years awaiting for
Bonbright Foote VI to reach such age and attainments as were
essential. Young Foote realized that upon the death of his father the
office would be closed again until his son, Bonbright Foote VIII,
should be equipped, by time and the university founded by John
Harvard, to enter as he was entering to-day. So the thing had been
done since the first Bonbright Foote invested Bonbright Foote II with
dignities and powers.