The superintendent of the Hapwood-Diller factory found that it was he who felt some confusion in bringing Mabel home. The latter took her time in getting out of the car. “I’m awfully much obliged to you, Mr. Mayberry,” she said, in a shrill and penetrating voice, so that the interested neighbors could all hear. “I don’t know what I should have done if you hadn’t brought me. Walked, I guess. Well! ‘Over the river!’” She popped into the house before he could get the starter into action under the fire of the neighbors’ chuckles. They all knew Mabel Skinner; and most of them had sized up Jim Mayberry for what he was, too. Mayberry drove down into Mailsburg’s business quarter and stopped before the Bellevue Hotel. He often took his dinner there and spent the evening, as well, in some upper room where there were shaded lights, much cigar smoke, the clink of glasses and the rattle of poker chips. The superintendent had been born and brought up in Mailsburg, as Frank Barton had been; but his family was now scattered. He and Barton had been the closest of chums at school. Mayberry owned quite as bright a mind as the general manager of the Hapwood-Diller Company; but he lacked the balance of his friend. Had it not been for the inspiration of Barton’s companionship and example Mayberry would never have obtained the eminence he had in the factory. In truth, his old chum had actually boosted Mayberry into the superintendent’s job after having been himself elected manager of the concern. Not that Mayberry was not well fitted for this position. But he lacked that quality of ambition to have gained it for himself without Frank Barton’s good offices. At that, he lacked the grace of gratitude. The Bellevue was the gathering place of the sporting men of the town. When Mayberry came out from dinner, Mr. Grandon Fuller occupied one of the easy chairs on the porch. Fuller’s taste for society was not like that of his wife and daughter. He was a big, pursy man with a shock of white hair and a ruddy countenance. He had a hail-fellow-well-met air for most occasions, and his jovial manner made him popular with most people. In local politics he had some prominence. “Hey, young man!” he called to Mayberry, “you’ve no engagement, have you? Smith is getting up a party for a little game. Will you join us?” “Not to-night, Colonel,” returned the superintendent, giving Fuller a handle to his name that always delighted the rich man. He had been on the governor’s staff once. “I am sorry. I have an appointment.” “Tut, tut! can’t you let the girls alone for one night, Son?” and Fuller’s laugh was unctuous. “’Pon my word it’s business.” “Thought nobody had to trouble their heads about business up at the factory except Barton?”