Mr. Carter paid no heed to the money. Instead he kept his eyes on the boy before him, studying him through the smoke that clouded the room. "You couldn't pull it off, eh?" he said sharply. "I'm sorry to hear that. What was the trouble?" "I didn't try to pull it off." "Didn't try!" "No, sir." "You mean you didn't advise your staff to sell out?" "I spoke against it." "Against it!" snarled Carter, leaning forward in his chair. The room was breathlessly still. "You see," explained the boy, "the more I thought about it the less I approved of what you wanted me to do. I tried to think it was straight but I didn't really think so. When the fellows asked my honest opinion, I simply had to tell them the truth." Mr. Carter made no comment, nor did his eyes leave Paul's face, but he drew his shaggy brows together and scowled. "So," went on Paul desperately, "I've brought your money back to you. It's the same bill you gave me. I didn't spend it. Somehow I couldn't bring myself to." There was an awkward pause. Paul got to his feet. "I'm--I'm--sorry to have disappointed you, Mr. Carter," he murmured in a low tone as he moved across the room to go. "You have been mighty kind to us boys." The door was open and he was crossing the threshold before the man at the desk spoke; then he called: "Hold on a minute, son." Paul turned. "Shut that door." Wondering, the boy obeyed. Mr. Carter took up the greenback lying before him. "So you've been carrying that money round with you ever since I gave it to you, have you?" "Yes, sir." "It's a long time; some weeks." "Yes," stammered Paul. "I ought to have brought it back to you before." "I could charge you interest on it." The smile that accompanied the speech escaped Paul. "I'll pay whatever you think proper," he said. "Nonsense, boy! I was only joking," the publisher hastened to say. "But tell me something; what was it you wanted that money for? You must have needed it badly or you would not have been threatening to sell out your Liberty Bond." "I was going to buy a typewriter, sir." "Oh! And you didn't get it. That was a pity." The man tapped the edge of the bill he held against the desk thoughtfully. Paul waited for him to speak; but when after an interval he still remained silent the lad shifted uneasily from one foot to the other and remarked: "I guess I'll be going along, sir. The half hour you were to give me is up." Then Mr. Carter spoke. "Will you shake hands with me, my boy, before you go, or have you too poor an opinion of me for that?" "Indeed I haven't a poor opinion of you, Mr. Carter," replied Paul, with hearty sincerity. "You have always been mighty good to me. It's true I didn't like your _March Hare_ proposition but--" "Your father hasn't much use for me either, I'm afraid," Mr. Carter observed moodily. "Dad thinks you bought up the election."