MR. THOMPSON went in for etchings, and Tommy had to stop, look, and listen. He was not bored, because his proud delight in Mr. Thompson's versatility kept him awake. There were so many evidences of a wide interest in the non-money-making things of life in this home that Tommy found himself free from the oppression of his burden. Mrs. Thompson was away on a visit to her people and the two men dined alone. Over the coffee in the library the talk finally drifted to Mr. Thompson. From that to Mr. Thompson's “Experiments” at the factory was a short step. Tommy had learned that all of these “Experiments” were at work in the experimental shop and in the selling department, and that not all of them were young men. Then Mr. Thompson talked about his advertisement in the New York Herald. “I received many answers. I should have thrown yours away if you had not given your age. It was too sophisticated and smart-Alecky. It didn't mean anything--except the truth. Not knowing you, I was not sure it was true. I can't stand puzzles, so I sent for you.” “I'm glad you did. It saved my life,” blurted Tommy. “Don't exaggerate, Leigh,” admonished Thompson, calmly. “I didn't,” said Tommy. “But I won't.” He couldn't tell Mr. Thompson, first, what had compelled him to look in the nor, second, how he had taken it for granted that his own answer would bring him employment. “Do you want to tell me about it?” asked Thompson, in a matter-of-fact voice that nevertheless in some curious way showed sympathy--in advance. Tommy's eyes clouded with the pain of struggle. “I--can't, Mr. Thompson,” he answered. Thompson's eyes did not leave Tommy's. “They called you Tommy at college?” “Yes, sir--everybody,” answered Tommy. “It is not always a recommendation. A diminutive nickname is apt to keep a man young. But there are degrees of youth, and superficial affection often has a babying effect. I'll call you Tommy hereafter.” Mr. Thompson said this in a musing voice. It made Tommy laugh, until Mr. Thompson said, seriously, “A secret is hard on concentration, isn't it?” Tommy started. He couldn't help it. Mr. Thompson went on: “It makes the result of the concentration test I applied to you the other day all the more remarkable. At your age, with your imagination and the habit of introspection that an untold secret begets, it was unfair to make the test even more difficult about the magical virtues of the number seven. Crossing out all odd numbers after one and seven is the common test. I have improved it, I think. I must have concentrated imagination, if I can get it. You did very well. Of course you are no wonder, Leigh--” “Certainly not!” interrupted Tommy, indignantly, before he stopped to think that it was not an accusation. Thompson smiled. “But you did well enough to justify me in keeping you--for a while longer, at all events.” “Yes, sir.”