On his way out Halloran paused in the hall. Through the wide doorway he could see Crosman, out in the sitting-room, striding around with his hands in his pockets. “Good-night, Crosman,” he ventured. But the other would not hear him; and Halloran, feeling as if he had been put through a wringer, went out. CHAPTER VII--Halloran Goes to Chicago The next morning--it chanced to be a Friday--Crosman came over to Halloran's desk. “Have you a couple of minutes?” he asked. “Surely. More than I want. Sit down.” Crosman did not take the offered chair, but leaned on the desk. “Miss Higginson spoke to me last night,” he said, with visible effort, “about the family expenses. She thinks they ought to reduce them all around, but you, she says, are the only one that knows about it. I suggested that she talk it over with you herself; but she didn't want to, for some reason.” Halloran swung back in his chair. “I don't know how well you understand this business, Crosman. It simply amounts to this: The combine people are selling lumber below cost to run us out of business, and we have shut down to let them go ahead until they're sick of it. When the price rises we'll start up again. Of course all this makes a big difference in Mr. Higginson's income. I suppose there's no use trying to make that plain to women, but if you can do anything to clear the air you'd better go talk to them. Anyhow, don't let them make any difference in their living. We mustn't do anything that will scare people; the Higginson credit is good, and it's our business to keep it good.” He meditated a moment and then looked up and said abruptly: “Look here, Crosman, you can do me a favour if you want to. Mr. Higginson's sickness seems to have left me in charge of his family finances. Now suppose you take the whole business off my hands. You know both Mrs. Higginson and Miss Higginson better than I do; and I think it would be a good deal easier for them to talk things over with you than with me. You can let me know if anything special comes up and I'll help you work it out. How does that strike you?” “All right,” he managed finally to get out. “I'll try it.” “I don't believe this giving away lumber can last much longer,” said Halloran. Something about those phrases that had been floating in Halloran's mind for weeks, “giving away lumber,” “selling at a loss,” “selling to our customers,” stuck in his thoughts now. He sat there, leaning back in his swivel-chair gazing at the rows of pigeon-holes--Crosman still leaning on the desk--while his mind sailed off to Pewaukoe; he saw again the great yards of the Bigelow Company crowded full of lumber--the mills droning ceaselessly, the scores of men swarming over the work, the steamer hurrying the cargo--and he thought again “all this is to be sold below cost to our customers.”