"Shall I lay the table for two or three, sir?" Mr. Bangs lifted his head long enough to give him one annihilating glance. "I have but one guest," he said significantly. "Set the table for two." The dinner was one of the best Quin had ever tasted, and his frank enjoyment of it, and franker comment, seemed further to ingratiate him with Mr. Bangs, who waxed almost agreeable in discussing the various viands. After dinner they returned to the library and lit their cigars, and Quin waited hopefully. This time he was not to be disappointed. "Graham," said Mr. Bangs, "what salary are you drawing?" "One hundred and fifty, sir." "How long have you been at the factory?" "A year last February." "Not so long as I thought. You are satisfied, I take it?" Quin saw his chance and seized it. "It's all right until I can get something better." Mr. Bangs relit his cigar, and took his time about it. Then he blew out the match and threw it on the floor. "I am looking for a new traffic manager," he said. "What's the matter with Mr. Shields?" Quin inquired in amazement. "I have fired him. He talks too much. I want a man to manage traffic, not to superintend a Sunday-school." "But Mr. Shields has been there for years!" "That's the trouble. I want a younger man--one who is abreast of the times, familiar with modern methods." Quin's heart leaped within him. Could Mr. Bangs be intimating that he, Quinby Graham, with one year and four months' experience, might step over the heads of all of those older and more experienced aspirants into the empty shoes of the former traffic manager? The South Seas seemed to flow just around the corner. "I have been considering the matter," continued Mr. Bangs, catching a white moth between his thumb and forefinger and taking apparent pleasure in its annihilation, "and I've decided not to get a new man in for the summer, but to let you take the work for the present and see what you can do with it." Quin's joy was so swift and sudden that even the formidable banks of Mr. Bangs's presence could not keep it from overflowing. "I can handle it as easy as falling off a log!" he cried excitedly. "I know every State in the Union and then some. Of course, I hate to see old Shields go, but he _is_ a slow-coach. I'll put it all over him! You'll see if I don't!" "I am not so sure about that," said Mr. Bangs. "Shields had the sense to do what he was told without arguing the matter." Quin laughed joyously. "Right you are!" he agreed. "I'd have come out of the service with a couple of bars on my shoulders if I hadn't argued so much. I don't know what gets into me, but when I see a better way of running things I just have to say so."