“I'll do my best, father,” said Tommy, fully as firmly. “I'll write you regularly and keep you informed of my progress. My work is of a peculiar character, and I can't always be sure I'm making good. As a matter of fact,” he added, in a burst of frankness, “I'm merely getting paid for being one of Thompson's Experiments, as they call us at the works.” “He is an unusual man. If his experiments should prove successful--” The old man paused to look sternly at his only son. “He says they always do,” smiled Tommy, reassuringly. “I pray so, my son,” said Mr. Leigh, quietly. “Th' aut'mobile is out there,” announced Maggie. “Good-by, dad!” said Tommy, rising hastily. Mr. Leigh also rose. He was frowning. His lips were pressed together tightly. He held out his hand. It was very cold. Tommy shook it warmly. “Good-by, my son,” said Mr. Leigh, sternly. CHAPTER XXI LONG before his train arrived in Dayton Tommy firmly fixed his resolve. All that he had so far done at the Tecumseh was piffling; the real work was before him. His first definite, concrete task--his mission to New York--had been accomplished, but he saw very clearly that his success did not entitle him to much credit. It was not business ability or good salesmanship that had placed the stock, but sheer luck--the luck of having for his best friend Rivington Willetts, whose father happened to be an extremely rich man. But even with that luck he would have failed but for his father's forethought in supplying the information that intelligent investors required. He was conscious of a regret that he had not tried to interest Mr. Mead or Mr. Wilson, or some of the others in his list, to establish definitely whether or not he was a financier. He could not help the intrusion into his meditations of one disturbing thought. His father worried him. The poor old man certainly had acted queerly. It was quite obvious that long brooding over the secret had affected his father's mind. This made the situation more serious. Every day it grew more complicated, more menacing, more desirable to end it once for all. And yet Tommy could not make up his mind to confide in Thompson. Somehow the problem was not up squarely for solution. The need to ask Mr. Thompson's aid seemed less and less urgent as the train drew nearer and nearer to Dayton, exactly as a toothache, after raging all night, vanishes in the dentist's office at the first glimpse of the forceps. This thought made Tommy reproach himself for rank cowardice. But the excuse-seeking instinct of inexperienced youth made him instantly see his father as a loving father, who had done for his only son what his only son was so sorry he had done. And that love made it impossible not to shield him. It was not alone Tommy's secret, but his father's--theirs jointly.