THE junior partner of the Altonia caused his nurse and his mother a good deal of anxiety that late afternoon and evening, and when he announced his intention of going to the mill at two in the morning they spoke darkly of using force. In the end, however, as had been the case for twenty-two years, he had his own way. Hopkins more nearly carried him to and from the machine than he had in the afternoon, when Miss Ada was so dewily moved, and the nurse, a plain and middle-aged person with a fancy for saving her patients, went doggedly with him, in spite of pointed remarks as to the inadvisability of such action, and Mrs. Parker added herself firmly to the party. “You girls spoil the picture for me,” he fretted. “I don’t expect--I don’t ask--to look like Hawkshaw, but I can’t even _feel_ like him when you personally conduct me in this fashion. Mr. Heminway,” he greeted the stoop-shouldered, pessimistic-looking person who was waiting for him in the office, “you will pardon the intrusion of these extremely superfluous but thoroughly well-meaning ladies? They have sworn by the Nine Gods that they will sit quietly in dim corners and blend with the shadows while we are busy, and we shall be busy, I fancy, until the black east pales to pearl, for this may be the only time for a week when the night shift is not working.” Mr. Heminway, who wore a green shade over his eyes and an alpaca office coat which hung very badly in the back, owing to the stooped shoulders, and looked as if nothing unpleasant could ever surprise him again, coughed apologetically. “I took the liberty of finishing up without you, Mr. Parker,” he said. “I had two of my staff helping me--they’ve just gone home. I don’t think you’ll need to stay much longer than it takes you to run over these figures. As a matter of fact,” he took in the presence of the nurse and the president with some perturbation, “you might just as well go now, and take these papers with you.” “There is no possible doubt, then?” Mr. Heminway made a sort of clucking sound. “No possible doubt,” he stated heavily. “I am amazed, and I am shocked, beyond words,” and he clucked again, expressing amazement and shock very graphically. “And old Ben--what’s his name?” “Birdsall.” “Old Ben Birdsall is cleared?” “Absolutely, sir!” “Well, I believe that’ll be a comfort to my senior partner,” said Peter. “He has moaned over Birdsall every time he’s mentioned him.” Mr. Heminway shook his head. “He will be glad, yes; Ben was a faithful old soul. But this--_Manders_--” he clucked again--“this will be a blow, sir, a blow!” “Well, I’m counting on your help in letting him down just as easily as possible,” said Peter, pocketing the sheaf of papers as his mother and his nurse closed in on him from either side. “I will meet you here to-morrow at--shall we say three o’clock?” “Three, sir,” Mr. Heminway agreed, and went away, stooping, and clucking mournfully to himself.