Her startled face was preternaturally grave on this occasion. Before she even removed her hat and the tight little jacket she wore, the girl went to the mail basket on Ethel Clayton’s desk, dumped the outgoing letters on its flat surface, and ran through them quickly, scrutinizing each address. She did this twice and then puzzlement, as well as gravity, showed in her sharp features. She stacked the letters slowly again in the basket, deep in thought. Then she went to the letter files. She found under the B heading a quantity of correspondence relating to the Bogata Company of Norville. But there was nothing of recent date. It seemed no letter had been written the day before by the Hapwood-Diller Company to the Bogata people. “Well,” the girl sighed, “I know Boots is an awful liar. But this time he fooled me. Guess I’ll keep my nose out of what don’t concern me. But that Boots!” And that evening she gave the recreant Boots a most decisive thrashing out behind the barn. For any older Skinner that could not trounce a younger Skinner, male or female, was not worthy of the clan. Mabel’s appearance at her desk when the rest of the office force arrived caused much comment. “Life is short and time is fleeting,” said Sydney, the bookkeeper. “We are warned of the Great Change to come. Little Skinner is here on time and at work.” “That happens three days before you die, Syd,” responded Mabel sepulchrally, and made no further explanation, not even to Ethel. Ethel went about her work with some feeling of depression. Barton had said nothing directly to her about going away. Indeed, he was not likely to take Ethel Clayton into his confidence in private matters. Yet she understood now, from several things he had been doing of late, that he had it in mind to absent himself from the offices. Jim Mayberry was in conference with the general manager on more than one occasion during the next few days. Ethel could only be thankful that the superintendent seemed to have too much on his mind to bother her. He did not even mention her refusal to ride with him in his car. But the girl thought more than once of the possibility of Mayberry’s becoming objectionable when Barton was gone and he, the superintendent, had charge of affairs. On Monday Benway Chase came into the offices. Ethel had paved the way for his reception by her associates, and Benway was made to feel welcome at once. Only Mayberry seemed surprised to see him. “Why, say!” drawled the superintendent, “what does Barton expect to make of _you_?” “I’m after your job, Mr. Mayberry,” responded Benway, smiling into the rather sneering face of the older man. “You don’t mind, do you?” “Not if you can cop it,” said the other. “But it takes a two-fisted man to handle some of the huskies we’ve got in the shops. Don’t forget that.” The intimation was brutal, but the boy with the withered arm only paled a little about the lips.