"Do you?" demands Old Hickory, whirlin' on me sudden. "I used to," says I, "until I got to know you better." "Oh!" says he. "Well, I suppose the young man has a right to his own opinion. And my estimate of him makes us even. But perhaps you don't know with what utter contempt I regard such a worthless----" "I got a general idea," says I. "And maybe that's because you don't know him very well." For a second the old boy stares at me like he was goin' to blow a gasket. But he don't. "I will admit," says he, "that I may have failed to cultivate a close acquaintance with all the harum-scarum cut-ups in my employ. One doesn't always find the time. May I ask what course you would recommend?" "Sure!" says I. "If it was me I wouldn't give him the chuck without a hearin'." That sets him chewin' his cigar. "Very well," says he. "Bring him in." I hadn't figured on gettin' so close to the affair as this, but as I had I couldn't do anything else but see it through. I finds Brink drummin' a jazz tune on his desk with his fingers and otherwise makin' the best of it. "Well," says he, as I taps him on the shoulder, "is it all over?" "Not yet," says I. "But the big boss is about to give you the third degree. So buck up." "Wants to see me squirm, does he?" says Brink. "All right. But I don't see the use. What'll I feed him, Torchy?" "Straight talk, nothing else," says I. "Come along." And I expect when Brink Hollis found himself lined up in front of them chilled steel eyes he decided that this was a cold and cruel world. "Let's see," opens Old Hickory, "you've been with us about a year, haven't you?" Hollis nods. "And how do you think you are getting on as a business man?" asks Mr. Ellins. "Fairly rotten, thank you," says he. "I must say that I agree with you," says Old Hickory. "How did you happen to honor us by making your start here?" "Because the governor didn't want me in his office," says Hollis, "and could get me into the Corrugated." "Hah!" snorts Old Hickory. "Think we're running a retreat for younger sons, do you!" "If I started in with that idea," says Brink, "I'm rapidly getting over it. And if you want to know, Mr. Ellins, I'm just as sick of working in the bond room as you are of having me there." "Then why in the name of the seven sins do you stick?" demands Old Hickory. Brink shrugs his shoulders. "Dad thinks it's best for me," says he. "He imagines I'm making good. I suppose I've rather helped along the notion, and he's due to get some jolt when he finds I've nose-dived to a crash." "Unfortunately," says Old Hickory, "we cannot provide shock absorbers for fond fathers. Any other reasons why you wished to remain on our pay roll?" "One," says Brink, "but it will interest you less than the first. If I got a raise next month I was planning to be married." Old Hickory sniffs. "That's optimism for you!" says he. "You expect us to put a premium on the sort of work you've been doing? Bah!"