I had been a partner in the house of Whittaker, Johnson, and Marsh,
in the wholesale drug trade, for twenty-five years, and, for the
last ten years, senior partner. For the first nine years of my
seniority I was not only nominally, but practically, the head of the
firm. I had ceased to occupy myself with details, but nothing of
importance was concluded without consulting me: I was the pivot on
which the management turned. In the tenth year, after a long
illness, my wife died: I was very ill myself, and for months not a
paper was sent to me. When I returned to work I found that the
junior partners, who were pushing men, had distributed between them
what I was accustomed to do, and that some changes which they
thought to be indispensable had been made. I resumed my duties as
well as I could, but it was difficult to pick up the dropped
threads, and I was dependent for explanation upon my subordinates.

Many transactions too, from a desire to avoid worrying me, were
carried through without my knowledge, although formerly, as a matter
of course, they would have been submitted to me. Strangers, when
they called, asked to see Johnson or Marsh. I directed the
messenger that they were to be shown into my room if I was
disengaged. This was a failure, for, when they came, I was obliged
to ask for help, which was not given very generously. Sometimes I
sent for the papers, but it took a long time to read them, and my
visitors became impatient. During one of these interviews, I
remember that I was sorely perplexed, but I had managed to say
something loosely with no particular meaning. Johnson came in and
at once took up the case, argued for ten minutes while I sat silent
and helpless, and an arrangement was concluded in which I really had