"It's the town itself'll be glad to see yer face, Mr. Dale," Tommy muttered and went off, wagging his head. Bill was trying to persuade Luella to kiss him, and did not hear. CHAPTER SEVENTEEN BILL GIVES THE PUBLIC MIND A LIFT Bill brushed past the sleek-haired office girl who attempted to bar his way and turned the knob on the door marked PRIVATE. He did not know which man he would find within; he was slightly relieved to find Walter Rayfield sitting behind a great, mahogany desk, staring at him in blank astonishment. "Hullo, Walter." Bill crossed the room, his hand outstretched in greeting, the old, humorous grin on his face that had lost much of its tan. "Well, well! The prodigal come home for the fatted calf?" Rayfield pulled himself together and rose, his lips pursed. "Veal's bringing a good price, Bill. Have to make it a small calf." Bill did not know what he meant by that; nothing, probably, unless he was aiming at a witty remark. A year had made a difference in Walter B. Rayfield. He was fatter, and there were heavy pouches under his eyes. The milky one was almost hidden under a drooping lid, which gave him a facetious appearance of winking slily at whomever he chanced to be looking. His face had lines graven deep by the responsibilities of the past months. Altogether, Walter Rayfield looked older and less paternal, Bill thought. "How are things going?" Bill sat down in the chair pulled close to the desk and reached for his tobacco and papers. "According to the _Record_, things are still humming at Parowan." Rayfield glanced down at a pile of correspondence on the desk. Then, knowing that Bill would probably stay until he had smoked one cigarette at least, he pushed the tray back resignedly and leaned forward, his fingers lightly clasped and tapping one another rhythmically. "Things are humming," Rayfield confirmed guardedly. "I suppose you read of our shutdown to replace certain machinery?" "Sure. That was last summer, sometime. Got it in, yet?" Rayfield shook his head. "Those things take time," he said. "Stock has fallen off a few points in consequence--naturally. And how is Mrs. Dale and daughter?" "Just fine. Doris sent regards." "Which I return fourfold." Rayfield smiled gallantly. "When are you going back? Of course, I take it you did not bring them with you." "No, I didn't bring them. They're camped at the Palace for the winter. I'm going to stick here for awhile." Bill glanced out of the window and down into the squalid street, and wondered how Doris would like that particular vista. He did not see the peculiar stiffening of the muscles along Rayfield's jaw. "Going to stay? That's great news, Bill. Come back to try and speed things up, I suppose?" Bill looked at him. Did Walter resent his coming, as betraying a lack of confidence in the present management? His tone had sounded mildly aggrieved.