Since he could not formulate a plan of campaign in detail, he simply walked about the shop talking genial generalities to the men. He did not know that while he was trying to be a friend to these men they also were becoming friends to him, and he presently found himself telling them all he knew about the new plant, of which they had heard vague rumors, of the better times that were coming, and how one of the greatest problems of all time was settled here, since all jobs were going to be life jobs. And, of course, he could not help asking them one at a time what really was needed to make their life in the shop better, more comfortable, and more worth while working for. They took him at his word, because though he was young and utterly inexperienced he was also wise enough to listen to wisdom. They answered his questions and freely gave of their own infallibility. He heard architects when he wanted sociologists and lawyers when he wanted brothers, and political economists when he wanted college boys; but he was wise enough to continue to listen attentively. He asked each man confidentially whether it would be possible for him to evolve a plan that would make them all one family. And each promised to think about it. In fact, many even promised to give Tommy the one plan that would do it. Thompson had little to say to Tommy. He made no suggestions and asked for no reports. But one day, as Tommy was going into the laboratory to see Bill Byrnes, he met the president. He saw that Thompson had something important to say. “Tommy, have the men given you a nickname yet?” “They all call me Tommy.” “But a nickname?” “Well,”--and Tommy smiled forgivingly--“some of them call me D. O.” “What does that mean?” “Door Opener!” Thompson's face lighted up. He held out his hand and he shook Tommy's so congratulatorily that Tommy realized in part what had happened. He felt that he was progressing. “Keep on the job, D. O. Remember that miracles are worked with men by men, and not by machinery nor by wages alone.” And Thompson walked off, smiling. Tommy walked into Bill's new quarters. Bill was happy beyond words, having no financial cares. His contract called for the sale of his patents to the Tecumseh at a price and on a basis to be determined by three men, one chosen by Byrnes, one by the company, and the third by both the others. “How's Charlotte?” asked Tommy, for Bill's sister had not been well. “Better. That specialist that Mr. Thompson got from Cleveland to see her has done her a lot of good.” “You never told me about that, Bill,” said Tommy, reproachfully.