Could it be that Thompson spied on them? Tommy almost blushed with self-anger at the suspicion. This man was a wonder, that was all. He didn't have to be a crook. If he wished to be, what defense could avail against him? Moreover, he couldn't be a crook, that was all. Tommy drove him to the works. Mr. Thompson, without a word, got out. At the door of the office he turned, faced Tommy, and said: “That's your car.” “I--I--don't understand--” “Your car.” “Oh, Mr. Thompson, I can't--” “Yes, you can, in my garage. Plenty of room.” “I didn't mean--exactly that,” floundered Tommy; but Mr. Thompson said, thoughtfully: “You'd better stay with Mr. Grosvenor for a while. Want your salary raised?” “Not yet. But, Mr. Thompson, I am--” “So am I!” And with that Mr. Thompson went into the office. Tommy, determinedly endeavoring not to consider the car his private property, drove it to Mr. Thompson's garage and walked to the Tecumseh Building. “I am to report to you again, Mr. Grosvenor,” he said to the head of the sales department. “What for?” “Mr. Thompson's orders.” Grosvenor looked at Tommy and asked, “Anything else?” “All he said was that I'd better stay with you for a while.” “I am glad to have you, my boy. What do you want to do?” This question would have resembled a sentence from a fairy tale to Tommy if he had not been accustomed to Mr. Thompson's ways. He answered: “Obey orders.” He meant it exactly, and he looked it. Grosvenor stared at him and then lost himself in thought. At length he turned to Tommy a face utterly expressionless, but there was a suggestion of play-acting about it that made him think of Mr. Thompson, to whom an inscrutable face came so natural. Grosvenor said, “I want you to listen.” “Yes, sir”; and Tommy looked expectant. “That's all. You will sit in this office all day and listen.” “Very well, sir.” Tommy's eyes looked intelligently at Mr. Grosvenor, who thereupon pointed to a desk in a corner of the room. Tommy sat down, looked at the empty pigeonholes, opened a drawer, saw some scratch-pads there, took out one and laid it on the desk. Then he looked to see if his lead-pencil was sharpened. It was. Mr. Grosvenor, who was watching him, smiled. “How do you like your new job, Tommy?” “Very much.” “What do you expect to learn?” “How to listen.” “And what will that teach you?” “I hope, for one thing, that it will teach me to understand Thompson.” “Some job, that,” said Mr. Grosvenor, seriously. Then, admiringly, “Isn't he a wonder?” “He is more than that to me, Mr. Grosvenor,” said Tommy, earnestly. “And to me, too, my boy,” confessed Mr. Grosvenor, in a lowered voice. CHAPTER XII