“Just the same it is not safe, I firmly believe, to accept the order. But a brusk refusal might do the Hapwood-Diller Company untold harm at some future time. The Bogata concern may come back. Miracles do happen.” “Better accept the order then,” Mayberry put in. “We can postpone filling it. We don’t have to give a bond. If they really prove to be shaky, we can renege.” The girl, who had come in and softly closed the door, flashed the superintendent a glance that was all scorn for business ethics thus expressed. But Barton replied quite calmly: “Two objections to that, Jim. In the first place the Hapwood-Diller Company has always based its policy on honor. Secondly, it is unwise for us to tie up any money at all in beginning a job we do not intend to complete.” “Aw!” grunted the superintendent. His vocabulary--at this juncture at least--seemed not to be extensive. There had been a rising murmur in the street under the open windows for some minutes. Now the sudden crash of martial music broke upon their ears. Barton’s countenance became vivid with interest, and he swung himself erect and strode to the nearest window. “Here come the boys,” he said, pride vibrating in his voice. He was very military looking. Nothing but the “setting up exercise” could ever have made his shoulders so very square and his splendidly muscled torso taper to so narrow a waist. Mayberry rose and sauntered after him. “Mailsburg’s heroes,” he observed. “I suppose you’re wishing you were marching away with them, Frank.” The other said nothing, but his eyes glowed. The marching column swung around the corner following the band--a column in khaki, a color already becoming familiar on the streets although war was not many months old. Ethel had gone to the other window and was likewise looking out upon the quota of the National Guard, with packs and rifles, on their way to the railroad station. A little group of women, girls and children clung to the column and kept pace with it. The men spectators seemed rather ashamed to follow on, but stood, nevertheless, on the curb to watch the boys go by. “I expect they’ll have a hot old time down at that training camp,” drawled Mayberry. Barton did not seem to hear him. His hand came to salute as the colors went by. A volume of voices rose from below as the band music drifted into the distance. “And mebbe marching to their graves!” “It’s a shame that some that can least be spared have to go while them that would never be missed keep out of it.” “You’re right! Some of ’em’s got fathers an’ mothers, an’ wives!” cried a shrill voice, “while them that ain’t got a soul dependent on ’em----” “There’s one yonder,” was the quick rejoinder. “And had all the benefit of Guard training too!” And the speaker, a woman, directed the gaze of her companions to the office window. Mayberry chuckled. “They’ve pinned you to the wall, Frank,” he murmured in the ear of the white-faced manager.