ential adviser in old John Burnit's merchandise establishment
had not fitted lean Johnson for the less dignified and more flurried
work of a newspaper office, even in the business department, and he
was looking very much fagged.

"Well, Johnson, what do you think of my first issue of the
_Bulletin_?" asked Bobby pleasantly.

Johnson looked genuinely distressed.

"To tell you the truth, Mr. Burnit," said he, "I have not seen it. I
never in all my life saw a place where there were so many
interruptions to work. If we could only be back in your father's
store, sir."

"We'll be back there before we quit," said Bobby confidently; "or I'll
be in the incurable ward."

"I hope so, sir," said Johnson dismally, and strode across the street
to catch his car; but he came back hastily to add: "I meant about the
store; not about the asylum."

Biff Bates laughed as he clambered into the tonneau with Bobby.

"If you'd make a billion dollars, Bobby, but didn't get back your
father's business that Silas Trimmer snaked away from you, Johnson
would think you'd overlooked the one best bet."

"So would I," said Bobby soberly, and he had but very little more to
say until the chauffeur stopped at Bobby's own door, where puffy old
Applerod, who had been next to Johnson in his usefulness to old John
Burnit, stood nervously awaiting him on the steps.

"Terrible, sir! Terrible!" spluttered Applerod the moment he caught
sight of Bobby. "This open defiance of Mr. Stone will put entirely out
of existence what little there is left of the Brightlight Electric
Company."

"Cheer up, Applerod, for death must come to us all," encouraged Bobby.
"Such shreds and fragments of the Brightlight as there are left would
have been wiped out anyhow; and frankly, if you must have it, I put
you in there as general manager, when I shifted Johnson to the
_Bulletin_ this morning, because there was nothing to manage."

Applerod threw up his hands in dismay.

"And there will be less. Oh, Mr. Burnit, if your father were only
here!"

Bobby, whose suavity Applerod had never before seen ruffled, turned
upon him angrily.

"I'm tired hearing about my father, Applerod," he declared. "I revere
the governor's memory too much to want to be made angry by the mention
of his name. Hereafter, kindly catch the idea, if you can, that I am
my own man and must work out my own salvation; and I propose to do it!
Biff, you don't mind if I put off seeing you until to-morrow?