"Johnny," he said huskily, "you've adopted my business and no mistake."
John swallowed again and scowled with joy.
"Let's figure it out!" he proposed.
"We will!"
They were at it all day, laying their plans, "adopting" the work of the
office to the new conditions. They found they would need a larger force,
including a French and a German translator. They placed other "ads" in the
papers. They forgot to have lunch and worked steadily on, till the outer
rooms were empty and still. At last they were through. Roger wearily put on
his cuffs, and went and got his coat and hat.
"Say, Mr. Gale," John asked him, "how about this letter--the one you
dictated this morning to that firm about your house?" Roger turned and
looked at him.
"Throw it into the basket," he said. "We'll write 'em another to-morrow and
tell 'em we have changed our minds." He paused for just a moment, and then
he added brusquely, "If this goes through as I hope it will, I guess you'd
better come into the firm."
And he left the room abruptly. Behind him there was not a sound.
* * * * *
At home in his study, that evening, he made some more calculations. In a
few weeks he would have money enough to start Edith and her family in their
new life on the farm. For the present at least, the house was safe.
"Why, father." Edith came into the room. "I didn't know you had come home.
What kept you so long at the office?"
"Oh, business, my dear--"
"Have you had any supper?"
"No, and I'd like some," he replied.
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