“I haven’t the least idea,” he added, once again smiling, “that things will not run along all right. But I shall be anxious--nervous, if you will. Mayberry will write, of course. But you will look on things with quite different eyes from the way he will look at them. In the first place, you are a woman and you have a different mental slant upon every occurrence from that of a man, it seems to me. I am sure anything you may have to report will be illuminating.” “Yes, Mr. Barton.” “Will you do it, Miss Clayton?” “Am I to understand I am to render a weekly report and keep the matter secret from everybody--even from Mr. Mayberry?” “I am exacting no spy-duty from you!” he said hastily. “That is not my meaning.” “I understand you perfectly, I think,” Ethel said gently. “You undoubtedly will be anxious.” “But I want the truth--the exact truth, Miss Clayton,” Barton went on. “Yes, I understand that too,” she replied. They arose at the same moment and Frank Barton put out his hand. “You will be of great help to me, I am sure, Miss Clayton,” he said, her hand lost for a moment in the embrace of his larger palm. “You have been of sure and practical assistance to me on many occasions. I know you will be of equal aid to Mayberry. Now, good-bye, Miss Clayton. I hope I shall not add much to your burdens.” “Oh, Mr. Barton! I am glad to do anything within reason. I feel that it is but a small thing I do compared with what you must face.” At that he flushed suddenly, and like a boy. “Oh that!” he murmured. “My duty has held me here. Now duty calls me elsewhere. Duty is our master, Miss Clayton. Good-bye.” “And--I hope you--will return to us safely,” she said, her eyes filling with tears. “Thank you, Miss Clayton. I hope to come back all right. I believe I shall,” he said cheerfully, and sat down immediately to sort some papers upon his desk. He did not look again in her direction as she went out of the private office. He heard the raucous note of an automobile horn a little later. He stacked the documents together and stuck them in their proper pigeonhole. He was leaving his desk open for Jim Mayberry to use if he wished. Stepping quickly to the window Barton saw the Fuller car stopping at the curb. Helen was driving, and was alone. He took down his hat and dust-coat and passed rapidly through the office. But at the outer door he stopped a moment and looked back. He faced the entire office force from that position. “Be good children till I return--all of you,” he said, laughing. “I am banking heavy on you, Sydney. Good-bye, all. I want to hear good reports of you while I am away.”