That killed the suggestion for the time being. The matter leaked out of the board room, however, and Ethel Clayton heard of it. She wondered if, after all, the Fullers were such good friends of Frank Barton as they seemed to be. Likewise she began to wonder what would happen to her if Jim Mayberry ever got the full power over the office force that he had in the factory. He might then discharge her on some easily trumped-up pretext. The thought was not a pleasant one. Of late, on several occasions Mayberry had criticized her work, especially her management of the office staff. He aimed some shafts of his rough wit, too, at Benway Chase, although he could find no complaint to make in the new clerk’s work. For Benway really showed a remarkable aptitude for his position. He was always energetic. When a member of the shipping room force was away for a while, Benway took on the duties of checker in addition to his usual work, which latter he did not in the least neglect. When Mayberry noticed this he said: “So you are out to master the whole business, are you, Chase? Going to be the wheelhorse, driver and spotted dog under the hind axle.” “I told you, Mr. Mayberry, I was out for your job,” Benway said coolly. “Every little bit a fellow learns puts him so much farther ahead.” “Think so, do you?” sneered the superintendent. But Ethel knew Benway was getting a firm grasp on the details of the office work that made him exceedingly useful. He very quietly relieved her of some of the duties which had a way of falling upon her shoulders. Barton had been in the habit of depending on her bright mind and willingness to a great degree. Mayberry deliberately shirked much of the routine work as he could. And of course it all fell upon Ethel and made her burden the heavier to bear. Sometimes she was held at her post until long after the others were gone for the day. Benway Chase would have remained to help or to accompany her home on these occasions had she allowed him to, and she had fairly to drive Little Skinner home. The latter would have done all Ethel’s work for her had she been able. “Take it from me!” the slangy Mabel declared. “That Jim Mayberry lets you slave here while he’s playin’ poker down to the Bellevue or runnin’ about the country in that flivver of his. I wish’t Mr. Barton would come back. He wouldn’t see you abused. Miss Clayton--’deed he wouldn’t!” Ethel had not heard from Barton since her visit to the training camp, although she wrote to him briefly each week as she had promised. Nothing special had arisen in the daily affairs of the Hapwood-Diller Company to cause her sufficient worry to bring it to Barton’s notice. And with the little trials, of course, she had no intention of troubling him.