Nearly every piece of property in the city’s original mile square had at some time belonged to a Mills. The earlier men of the name had been prominent in public affairs, but he had never been interested in politics and he never served on those bothersome committees that promote noble causes and pursue the public with subscription papers. When Franklin Mills gave he gave liberally, but he preferred to make his contributions unsolicited. It pleased him to be represented at the State Fair with cattle and saddle horses from Deer Trail Farm. Like his father and grandfather, he kept in touch with the soil, and his farm, fifteen miles from his office, was a show place; his Jersey herd enjoyed a wide reputation. The farm was as perfectly managed as his house and office. Its carefully tended fields, his flocks and herds and the dignified Southern Colonial house were but another advertisement of his substantial character and the century-long identification of his name with the State. His private office was so furnished as to look as little as possible like a place for the transaction of business. There were easy lounging chairs, a long leathern couch, a bookcase, a taboret with cigars and cigarettes. The flat-top desk, placed between two windows, contained nothing but an immaculate blotter and a silver desk set that evidently enjoyed frequent burnishing. It was possible for him to come and go without traversing the other rooms of the suite. Visitors who passed the office boy’s inspection and satisfied a prim stenographer that their errands were not frivolous found themselves in communication with Arthur Carroll, Mills’s secretary, a young man of thirty-five, trained as a lawyer, who spoke for his employer in all matters not demanding decisions of first importance. Carroll was not only Mills’s confidential man of business, but when necessary he performed the duties of social secretary. He was tactful, socially in demand as an eligible bachelor, and endowed with a genius for collecting information that greatly assisted Mills in keeping in touch with the affairs of the community. Mills glanced at his watch and turned to press a button in a plate on the corner of his desk. Carroll appeared immediately. “You said Shep was coming?” Mills inquired. “Yes; he was to be here at five, but said he might be a little late.” Mills nodded, asked a question about the survey of some land adjoining Deer Trail Farm for which he was negotiating, and listened attentively while Carroll described a discrepancy in the boundary lines. “Is that all that stands in the way?” Mills asked. “Well,” said Carroll, “Parsons shows signs of bucking. He’s thought of reasons, sentimental ones, for not selling. He and his wife moved there when they were first married and their children were all born on the place.”