It became custom that every Saturday forenoon Rowena's big car would call at the Rookery Building and carry off her father, if he chanced to be in town, and Larry to the Lake Shore home. An hour's swift run over the perfect macadam of the Lake Shore road that wound through park and boulevard, past splendid summer residences of Chicago financial magnates, through quiet little villages and by country farms, always with gleams of Michigan's blue-grey waters, and always with Michigan's exhilarating breezes in their faces, would bring them to the cool depths of Birchwood's shades and silences, where for a time the hustle and heat and roar of the big city would be as completely forgotten as if a thousand miles away. It was early on a breathless afternoon late in July when from pavement and wall the quivering air smote the face as if blown from an opened furnace that Rowena drove her car down La Salle Street and pulled up at the Rookery Building resolved to carry off with her as a special treat “her men” for an evening at Birchwood. “Come along, Larry, it is too hot to live in town today,” she said as she passed through the outer office where the young man had his desk. “I am just going in to get father, so don't keep me waiting.” “Miss Wakeham, why will you add to the burdens of the day by breezing thus in upon us and making us discontented with our lot. I cannot possibly accept your invitation this afternoon.” “What? Not to-day, with the thermometer at ninety-four? Nonsense!” said the young lady brusquely. “You look fit to drop.” “It is quite useless,” said Larry with a sigh. “You see we have a man in all the way from Colorado to get plans of a mine which is in process of reconstruction. These plans will take hours to finish. The work is pressing, in short must be done to-day.” “Now, look here, young man. All work in this office is pressing but none so pressing that it cannot pause at my command.” “But this man is due to leave to-morrow.” “Oh, I decline to talk about it; it is much too hot. Just close up your desk,” said the young lady, as she swept on to her father's office. In a short time she returned, bearing that gentleman in triumph with her. “Not ready?” she said. “Really you are most exasperating, Larry.” “You may as well throw up your hands, Larry. You'd better knock off for the day,” said Mr. Wakeham. “It is really too hot to do anything else than surrender.” “You see, it is like this, sir,” said Larry. “It is that Colorado mine reconstruction business. Their manager, Dimock, is here. He must leave, he says, tomorrow morning. Mr. Scread thinks he should get these off as soon as possible. So it is necessary that I stick to it till we get it done.” “How long will it take?” said Mr. Wakeham. “I expect to finish to-night some time. I have already had a couple of hours with Dimock to-day. He has left me the data.”