"That's very good of you," agreed Bobby, suddenly ashamed of his ungenerous stand in the face of this sportsmanlike attitude. "But really I've had cause for timidity." "Caution is not cowardice," said Mr. Sharpe in a tone which conveyed a world of friendly approbation. "This matter must be taken up very soon, however, and I can not allow you more than a week to investigate. I'd be pleased to receive your legal and business advisers at any time you may nominate, and to give them any advantage you may wish." "I'll investigate it at least, and I thank you for giving me the opportunity," said Bobby, really very contrite that he had been doing Sharpe such a mental injustice all these years. "By the way," he suddenly added, "has Silas Trimmer anything whatever to do with this proposition?" Mr. Sharpe smiled. "Mr. Trimmer does not own one share of stock in the Brightlight Electric Company, nor will he own it," he answered. "In that case," said Bobby, "I am satisfied to consider your offer without fear of heart-disease." The departing caller met an incoming one in the outer office, and Agnes, sweeping into Bobby's room, breathlessly gasped: "That was Frank Sharpe!" "The same," admitted Bobby, smiling down at her and taking both her hands. "I never saw him so closely," she declared. "Really, he's quite distinguished-looking." "As long as he avoids a close shave," supplemented Bobby. "But what brings you into the--the busy marts of trade so early in the morning?" "My trusteeship," she answered him loftily, producing some documents from her hand-bag. "And I'm in a hurry. Sign them papers." "Them there papers," he kindly corrected, and seating himself at his desk he examined the minor transfers perfunctorily and signed them. "I'm afraid I'm a failure as a trustee," she told him. "I ought to have had more power. I ought to have been authorized to keep you out of bad company. How came Mr. Sharpe to call on you, for instance?" "To make my fortune," he gravely assured her. "Mr. Sharpe wants me to go into the Brightlight Electric Company with him." "I can imagine your courteous adroitness in putting the man back in his place," she laughed. "How preposterous! Why, he's utterly impossible!" "Ye-e-es?" questioned Bobby. "But you know, Agnes, this isn't a pink-tea affair. It's business, which is at the other end of the world." "You're not honestly defending him, Bobby?" she protested incredulously. "Why, I do believe you are considering the man seriously!" "Why not?" he persisted, arguing against his own convictions as much as against hers. "We want me to make some money, don't we? To make a success that will let me marry you?" "I'm not to say so, remember," she reminded him. "Father put no lock on my tongue, though," he reminded her in turn; "so I'll just lay down the dictum that as soon as I succeed in any one business deal I'm going to marry you, and I don't care whether the commodity I handle is electricity or potatoes."