“It may not. I’m no intriguer, Blaisdell. I can keep you informed; but I am not up in diplomacy. Barton has heard some yarn about you fellows. He is for turning the order down--flat.” “Can’t you influence him? I thought you and he were thicker than the hair on a dog’s neck.” “We’ve always been chums,” drawled Mayberry. “That doesn’t give me any hold over Frank’s processes of reasoning. And he can talk me off my feet. I didn’t agree to do the impossible, Blaisdell. If the order goes through the best I can do is to rush it.” “Yet you expect to get your rake-off,” sneered the other. “That’s my legitimate graft. It’s for letting everything go through smoothly. You know, in my position, I can favor your company, Blaisdell.” “It doesn’t seem that you can--not if this order clogs the chute. I am frank to tell you, Jim, we’ve got to get those goods without question or we shall be in untold trouble.” “Ye-as,” drawled the superintendent, “so I inferred. That is what is bothering Barton. He seems to be wise to the state of your credit.” “He doesn’t _know_ it,” snapped the other. “He only suspects. Nobody knows it but Billings, Hempstead, me and--you.” “And I’m sitting tight and saying nothing. I want my rake-off on the order of course--By jinks, I _need_ it! Money is as scarce with me just now as gold filling in a hen’s teeth.” “Then do something to help us,” urged Blaisdell. “I’ll do all I can. If I were in charge--Oh, well! I _could_ do something in that case.” “Say! any chance of that happening?” demanded the other and with eagerness. “I--don’t--know. There may be. Frank has got the war fever. Fact! Any fellow that got exempted as easy as he did----” “By the way,” asked Blaisdell, “how did you get past the board?” “Conscientious objector,” replied Mayberry glibly. “Sure! My mother and father were Quakers and I often attended the Friends’ Meeting House,” and he laughed. “You are a liar, Jim,” said the other frankly. “The Quakers are putting their young men into the Red Cross and all such work. That claim don’t go. I believe it cost you money. Doc Flammer has bought a new runabout--and it’s a better car than you drive, Jim. I believe that foxy medico knows how to feather his nest.” “I really have a bad heart,” said the superintendent of the Hapwood-Diller Company seriously. “Quite a murmur. You can hear it sometimes without the stethoscope.” “But the doc never advised you to cut out the tobacco, did he?” drily queried Blaisdell, as Mayberry lit another cigarette at the coal of his first. “Now, see here, to get back to biz: You say Barton has the fever?” “He’s wanted to go all along. You should hear him talk! He makes me sick!” scoffed the superintendent. “If he should go I shall step into his shoes _pro tem_. He wants to go to the officers’ training camp at Lake Quehasset. _Then_ I might be able to help you fellows--and myself--Blaisdell.” “You think Barton will immediately turn down our order? Before he goes away--if he does go?”