"Not yet. I have had a great deal to do, Don. I shall, however, look up some one as soon as possible. In the meantime, before you start in with your tutor, and Thornton gets so rushed that he cannot be spared, I want to take you both to Mortonstown to visit the Monitor Mills. Thornton has never seen the manufacture of woolen goods and will be the more intelligent for doing so; as for you, I am anxious to have you complete the story of wool-growing which you began at Crescent Ranch. To stop short of visiting a mill now would be like reading the opening chapters of a book and never finishing the volume." "I do want to know the rest of the story very much, father," Donald replied. "I told Sandy when I was out West that I hoped you would some time take me to a mill. Since we got home, though, you have been so busy that I did not like to ask you." "That was thoughtful of you, son. Ordinarily I should have preferred to wait; it chances, however, that something has come up which obliges me to see the Monitor people right away. So I shall go out there to-morrow, taking Thornton with me, and if you like you may go also." "Of course I'd like!" exclaimed Donald eagerly. The next day proved to be so gloriously clear that instead of making the trip to Mortonstown by train Mr. Clark decided to run out in his touring-car. It was not a long ride--something over twenty-five miles--but to Thornton, unaccustomed to the luxury of a modern automobile, the journey was one of unalloyed delight. "It is like riding in a sitting-room on wheels, isn't it?" he murmured with a sigh of satisfaction. "Some day you will be having a car of your own, Thornton," Mr. Clark said, smiling. "And riding to Idaho in it," put in Donald. "Well, it is about the smoothest way I ever traveled!" declared the ranchman. "When we came East I thought that sleeping-car close to a moving palace; but this thing has the train beaten to a frazzle. You see I am used to jolting over rough roads in springless wagons, and it is something new to me to go along as if I was sliding down-hill on a velvet sofa-cushion." Donald and his father heartily enjoyed the big fellow's pleasure. As for Thornton, when the car came to a stop before the puffing Mortonstown mills it was with regret that he dragged himself from the seat. Still, he had the ride home in anticipation--that was a comforting thought. Once within the mills, however, even the memory of the homeward journey faded from his mind. The vast buildings throbbing with the beat of engines, the click and whirr of bobbins, and the clash of machinery, blotted out everything else. When they entered Mr. Munger, the manager, who was expecting them, came forward cordially. "We were glad to hear by telephone that you were coming out to-day, Mr. Clark," he said. "Mr. Bailey, the president, is waiting to see you in his private office."