“You must be a bookkeeper under your vest,” retorted Tommy, “you are so struck with the philosophical value of items. Life isn't a ledger. 'Profit-and-loss' was invented as a sort of wastebasket for the mistakes industrial corporations make through their mechanical experts.” “Keep on discovering defects, Tommy,” laughed La Grange, “you'll make a fine salesman yet.” Then he became serious. “As a matter of fact, some of the best suggestions have come from laymen.” “Don't look at me. My trouble is that I am ahead of my time,” said Tommy, haughtily, and went off to tell Bill his grievances. After that they decided to jot down the suggestions, and if possible try them out. But Tommy found that, as he understood the car better, fewer improvements suggested themselves. He began to think the trouble was with the buyers. His resolve to repay the seventeen thousand dollars was by now divested of all heroics and, consequently, of self-pity. It had become a duty thoroughly assimilated. But the reason why the secret had lost its power to torture him beyond measure was that, beginning by hoping, he ended by being convinced that, if discovery came, Mr. Thompson and Bill and Grosvenor and La Grange and Nevin and the others would know that he was not to blame. But when it occurred to him that his thoughts still were all of self, the reaction was so strong that he almost yearned for discovery. He even dramatized it. He saw the trial, heard the sentence, said good-by to his father at the door of the jail, and then went back to his work in Day-ton, to toil for the bank, to pay the debt just the same, to save his wages, to make a new home and have it ready for his father. He would pay with love what his father had paid for love. And then Tommy told himself that it was not for him to see visions and dream dreams, but to hustle and pay; so that the spur was just as sharp, but not quite so cruelly applied. One morning Tommy, in his car, left the shop on his way to the country. On Main Street near Fourth he saw Mr. Thompson on foot. Thompson held up his hand. Tommy drew up alongside. “Give us a ride?” asked Thompson, pleasantly. Tommy gravely touched his cap with rigid fingers, and asked, “Where to, sir?” “With you,” answered Thompson. “Get in.” And Tommy opened the rear door. Thompson shook his head, got in front, and sat beside Tommy. Tommy shifted gears more diffidently than usual. They clashed horridly. His face grew red. “Excited?” asked Thompson, seriously. “Yes,” answered Tommy, frankly. “Get over it!” Thompson's advice was given in such a calm voice that it did not help Tommy. Whereupon Thompson laughed and said, “Tommy, I completely wrecked my first seven cars.”