"Maybe I can't do fifty miles a day on snowshoes, and I'm sure it isn't my fault I don't live north of 60. But I'm in a hurry; I promised to help Mr. Wentworth pick out a toboggan cap. I stopped in to remind you that you promised me a fur coat on my twenty-first birthday." The old man regarded her thoughtfully. "So I did, so I did," he repeated absently. "This Wentworth, now--he's been kickin' around an uncommon lot, lately. Tell me again, who is he? What does he do for a livin'?" "Why, he's a civil engineer--hydraulic work is his specialty. He has been employed by some company that intended to put in a power plant of some kind on Nettle River, and either the company broke up, or they found the plan was not feasible, or something, and they abandoned it. So Mr. Wentworth isn't doing anything, at present. But he is a fine fellow--so jolly, and so good looking, and he has a wonderful war record. He was with the engineers in Russia." "U-m-m, where d'ye get hold of his war record?" "Why--why--he--he has told us about the things they did--his company." "Um--hum," Old John was stroking his nose. "But, if he's civil engineer, an' out of a job, you might tell him to stop in a minute--after he gets the right color of a toboggan cap picked out." III When the door closed behind the girl old John readjusted his nose glasses and leaned back in his chair. "A clever engineer he is, beyond a doubt," he mused. "For I kept my eye on him while he was layin' out Orcutt's Nettle River project. If he'd made a botch of the job 'twould have saved me offerin' my plant to the city. But he has the look of a man ye couldn't trust in the dark--an' 'twould be clever engineerin' to marry a million. I'll set him a job that'll show the stuff that's in him. If he's a crook, I'll give him the chance to prove it." Reaching into a pigeon-hole of his desk, McNabb withdrew a thick packet of papers and removed the rubber band. A few moments later Jean entered, the office followed by a rather well set up young man, whose tiny mustache was chopped square, like a miniature section of box hedge. "This is Mr. Wentworth, Dad," introduced the girl. "And now I'll leave you two men, because Oskar has promised to help me pick out a coat, and it's after ten o'clock. And, by the way, Dad, what kind of a coat shall I get? I want a good one." "I'll warrant ye do! Well, just you tell Oskar to let you pick out a pony, or a crummer, or a baum marten, or a squirrel. They're all good." As the door closed behind his daughter, old John McNabb motioned the younger man to a chair. "My daughter tells me you're an engineer," he began. "Yes, sir, temporarily unemployed." "Come up here on the Nettle River project, I hear. What's the matter? Couldn't you dam the river?"