“Nat,” announced that young commercial dignitary, “the old man and I have been talking you over. Gridley was in here the other day—you know who I mean—old duffer who used to run the tannery. Well, he owns a rotten lot of stock in this mill. Put it in when dad first started. And the old man goes by Gridley’s advice a lot. Seems old Gridley’s scraped up an interest in you somewhere and first father and I knew, old Caleb was cussin’ like a Malay pirate and laying down the law about how we ought to reconstruct our sales force. But it looks as if we might get drawn into the war and we’re watching our step.” “Yes, it does look like war,” returned Nat gravely. “I just read the President’s message to Congress this morning.” “It’s this way, Nat. Mosely, who’s been running our New York offices, is unmarried. He’ll probably go if they call for volunteers. He says he wants to go, anyhow. You’re married and have your wife and mother to care for, and probably you’ll get exempted, if they resort to a draft. So dad and I put two and two together—Mosely’s going to war and Gridley’s cussin’ in your behalf—and I’m prepared to make you a proposition.” “But why should Mr. Gridley do any such thing? I’ve got a fair position already.” Ted smoked a moment in silence, loath to prod into Nat’s personal affairs. But apparently it had to be. “Nat, you married old Jake Richards’ oldest girl, didn’t you? I remember her as a kid in school—she sat across the aisle from me in a couple of the early grades.” “Yes. But what of it?” Ted suddenly decided to be frank. “Nat, according to Caleb, he thinks you’re unhappily married because your wife has never had much of a chance to see other kind of existence but life in a little town like Paris. Old Cal believed that if you and Mildred could settle in some place like Boston or New York, where Mildred could get out among people, it would change her so much and broaden her so, that you and she might be drawn closer together. Don’t take offense. We might as well talk things frankly.” “What’s your proposition?” asked Nathan. “I’ve told you! Running our New York office in Fred Mosely’s place.” “That’s quite a step from my present job, Ted.” “We think you may be more adapted for it; you had a great knack of handling help while you and your father were in business here. There’s a salary of eight thousand a year attached to it but in New York you’ll find you’ll need it. And of course dad will always expect you to earn it. But it’ll be a complete change and give your wife a new interest in—things. How about it?” “Whew!” cried Nathan. “I don’t know what to say!” And he didn’t. Three weeks later, however, he and Milly went down to New York, Nathan to “look over” the New York office of the Thorne Mills and decide whether he felt capable of filling the position. III