"Hezekiah Wilkins, are you sick, or what in the devil is the matter with you?" inquired the overwrought manufacturer. "No, not sick, Obadiah," Hezekiah explained placidly, "not sick, but happy--happy in that thought--a distinctly attractive one, and exceptionally well-developed for your benefit. I regret," the lawyer lamented, "that a stenographer was not present to preserve it. It is a pity that the world should lose it--that it should be lost to those who would understand and appreciate it--even love it." Obadiah sank deep into his chair, encircled by gloom, as, appreciating his inability to direct the train of his legal adviser's thought, he allowed that worthy to pursue his own course. "Youth calls to youth," the sentimental Hezekiah continued. "Youth understands youth. Youth can persuade youth." Suddenly the attorney seemed to thrust aside the gentle atmosphere in which he had been immersed, and, fixing a most crafty look upon Obadiah, he snapped, "You and I can't handle that fellow, but your daughter can. It's going to cost you some money, though." He suffered a relapse. "Youth knows neither the value of time nor money." Obadiah was filled with relief. "By gum, you've hit it," he shouted. "But why couldn't you get that off your chest without throwing a fit?" he complained, ill-humoredly. Once more Hezekiah reverted to sentiment. "The language of youth is song, and its thought poetry," he sighed, after which he arose and faced the manufacturer across his desk. "I am authorized to proceed in accordance with my plan?" he asked--"to make the best settlement which in my judgment can be made in the premises, through," he chuckled, "the extraordinary channels to which I have recourse?" "Go the limit, only keep it out of court," grumbled Obadiah. "Give such instructions as you wish to Virginia and let her understand that I am only interested in an amicable adjustment and do not care to be bothered with details." As Hezekiah departed through the outer office, he interrupted a conversation between Mr. Jones and Kelly. The stenographer met the intrusion with characteristic activity. Rushing to his desk, he seized the recently typed letters and bore them into Obadiah's presence. His haste, if noted by the attorney, should have indicated that prolonged presence in the throne room had resulted in marked delay to the normal performance of imperial functions. Apparently Hezekiah's mind was engrossed by lighter matters. He moved spryly, whistling a cheery melody not at present in vogue but much in favor in his youth. Mr. Jones came out of Obadiah's room hurriedly. The sound of stern reproof came also, until it was shut off by the closing of the door. It seemed as if the spirit of the stenographer expanded in relief, in the familiar atmosphere of his own domain; as one who, having accomplished a hazardous journey, returns to the peace of his own fireside.