"He did that," said another. "I was a kid in the Mill at the time; 'twas before he got hold of his new process." "Pete Martin is a better man than Adam Ward ever was or will be at that--process or no process," said a third, while every man within hearing endorsed the sentiment with a hearty word, an oath or a pointed comment. "But the young boss is a different sort, though," came from the first speaker. "He is that!" "The boy's all right." "John's a good man." A workman with a weak face and shifty eyes paused in passing to say, "You'll find out how different the boy is onct he's put to the test. He's the same breed, an' it's just like Jake Vodell said last night, there ain't one of the greedy capitalist class that wouldn't nail a laboring man to the cross of their damnable system of slavery if they dast." A silence fell over the group. Then a dry voice drawled, "Jake Vodell ain't never overworked himself as anybody knows of, has he? As for you, Sam Whaley, I'm thinkin' it would take somethin' more than a crucifyin' to get much profit out of you, the way you mooch around." There was a general laugh at this and Sam Whaley went on his weak way to do whatever it was that he was supposed to be doing. "Sam's all right, Bob," said one who had laughed. "His heart is in the right place." "Sure he is," agreed Bob. "But I sometimes can't help thinkin', just the same, that if I was a-ownin' and a-workin' slaves, I'd consider him a mighty poor piece of property." When Adam Ward entered the office, some time later, he walked straight to his son's desk, without so much as a glance or a nod of recognition toward any other soul in the big room. "I want to talk with you, John," he said, grimly, and passed on into his private office. The closing of the door of that sacred inner room behind John was the signal for a buzz of excited comments. "Lordy," gasped a stenographer to her nearest neighbor, "but I'm sorry for poor young Mr. Ward--did you see the old man's face?" The half-whispered remark expressed, with fair accuracy, the general sentiment of the entire force. Adam Ward did not sit down at his desk, but going to a window he stood looking out as though deep in thought. "Father," said John, at last, "what is it? Has anything happened?" Adam turned slowly, and it was evident that he was holding his self-control by a supreme effort of will. "I have made up my mind to quit," he said. "From to-day on you will take my place and assume my responsibilities in the Mill." "I am glad, father," said John, simply, "You really should be free from all business cares. As for my taking your place in the Mill," he smiled, "no one could ever do that, father." "You have full control and absolute authority from to-day on," returned Adam. "I shall never put my foot inside the doors of the plant or the office again." "But, father!" cried John. "There is no need for you to--"