They had compromised upon Mr. Pepper, secured from Simpkins' Practical Advertising School. But at the end of six months, Pepper's so-called "follow-up campaign" had failed to meet materially the steady inroads of the western men. He had explained that it was the result of his need of an assistant. It was determined to give him one. Then, one night as he sat in his library, John Houghton had looked into a pair of blue eyes and promised to "give Tom Brainard the chance." In consequence he had had his hair tousled, been given a resounding kiss and a crushing hug from the young lady on his knees. For Dorothy Houghton, despite her nineteen years, still claimed that privilege from her father. In that way, for the first time, a college man had come into the employ of K. & H., and been made the assistant of Mr. Pepper at the salary he demanded--"any old thing to start the ball rolling." And now had come the information that the senior partner's long-desired experiment had ended in failure. Young Kaufmann turned to his work with the air of one who has given a child its own way and seen it come to grief. "I--I suppose," Houghton said slowly, "we'll have to let Brainard go." And then a peculiar thing happened. Through the open window, floating in the summer air, he seemed to see a familiar figure. It was dressed in fluffy white, and carried a parasol over its shoulders. It fluttered calmly in, seated itself on the sill, and gazed at him with blue eyes that were serious, reproachful. "Daddy!" it said, and it brushed away a wisp of hair by its ear--just as another one, long ago, had used to. "Daddy!" it faltered. "Why did I ask you to give him the place, if it wasn't because--because----" The spell was broken by Kaufmann's voice. "Whatefer you do, I am sooted," he was saying. It might have been his father. "But if w'at Pepper says about Brainard----" The senior partner straightened up and pushed a button. "Yes. But We haven't heard what Brainard says about Pepper." Several moments later Tom Brainard entered. Medium-sized and muscular, he was dressed in a loose-fitting suit that by its very cut told his training. He stood between them as Mr. Pepper had done, but there was nothing of the other's ingratiating deference in his level look. "Sit down, Brainard," said Houghton. The newcomer did so, and the senior partner marked an attitude of laziness and indifference. Houghton became stern. "Brainard," he began, "I gave you a chance with us because----" He paused. The other colored. "I had hoped to make good without that." "But this morning Mr. Pepper----" "Said we couldn't get along together. That's true." "Ah! You admit!" It was Kaufmann. "Yes."