have managed that grin. She was not pretty, but, somehow, attractive.
Her eyes were bully; intelligent, humorous sort of eyes, he decided.

"Bet she's a darn nice kid," he concluded, boyishly. His father would
have been shocked at a thought expressed in such words.

"The business has done wonders these last five years," said Rangar,
intruding on Bonbright's thoughts. "Five years ago we employed less
than a thousand hands; to-day we have more than five thousand on the
payroll. Another few years and we shall have ten thousand."

"Axles?" asked Bonbright, mechanically.

"Axles," replied Rangar.

"Father doesn't approve of them--but they must be doing considerable
for the family bank account."

Rangar shot a quick glance at the boy, a glance with reproof in it
for such a flippancy. Vaguely he had heard that this young man had
done things not expected from a Foote; had, for instance, gone in for
athletics at the university. It was reported he had actually allowed
himself to be carried once on the shoulders of a cheering mob of
students! There were other rumors, also, which did not sit well on
the Foote tradition. Rangar wondered if at last a Foote had been born
into the family who was not off the old piece of cloth, who might,
indeed, prove difficult and disappointing. The flippancy indicated
it.

"Our inventory," he said, severely, "five years ago, showed a trifle