“Oh! Then what are you here for at such an hour and in such weather, eh?” Mr. Pitt hummed and hawed. He was one of McNason’s most trusted overseers; and at the great factories which daily ground down human lives into the McNason millions, he had under his management a very large number of the men employed. The only fault that could be found with him from a strictly business point of view was, that he had some vestiges of a heart. These vestiges were troubling him a little just now. “There was one thing I forgot to mention to you in my report to-day,” he began; “I can’t think how it slipped my memory.” “Neither can I!” and Josiah smiled a hard smile--“Whatever it is, if _you_ forgot it, it cannot be of much importance!” Mr. Pitt did not seem to perceive the implied compliment to himself. “Well, perhaps not,”--he answered slowly,--“still I should blame myself if I neglected it--I should certainly blame myself----” Here he broke off and coughed nervously, while McNason, drawing a large elbow-chair to the fire, sat down and spread out his thin veiny hands to the blaze in irresponsive silence. “It’s--it’s about Willie Dove, sir----” he said. McNason looked up with peering eyes that narrowed at the corners like those of a snake. “Willie Dove!” he echoed, slowly. “H’m--h’m--let me see! Who is Willie Dove?” “Surely you remember him?” replied Pitt, quickly, with a touch of warmth in his tone--“Twenty-five years ago he was one of the smartest travellers in your employ----” “Was he?” And McNason smiled blandly, but indifferently. “Why, yes of course he was!” and Mr. Pitt’s voice grew still warmer with feeling as he spoke--“Surely, Mr. McNason, you can’t have altogether forgotten him? He made immense business for the firm,--immense! A wonderfully active and energetic man,--never lost time or opportunity and brought us no end of valuable custom----” “Quite right of him!” interpolated McNason,--“He did his duty, no doubt, and was paid for doing it. Well?” Mr. Pitt played absently with his watch-chain. He was conscious that a check had been summarily put on any eloquent dissertation he might have been disposed to make concerning the past abilities and qualifications of Willie Dove. “I thought--I fancied you might perhaps be interested,” he murmured. “Twenty-five years is a long time, Pitt,” said McNason, slowly,--“a very long time! It is a quarter of a century. One’s interest in any man is apt to exhaust itself naturally in such a period.”