t to his own place of business, where he
asked the same question of Johnson. In reply, Mr. Johnson produced,
from his own personal and private index-file, an oblong gray envelope
addressed:

_To My Son Robert,
Upon His Inquiring About the Trusteeship of My Estate_

Opening this in the privacy of his own office, Bobby read:

"As stated in my will, it is none of your present business."

"Up to Bobby again," the son commented aloud. "Well, Governor," and
his shoulders straightened while his eyes snapped, "if you can stand
it, I can. Hereafter I shall take my own advice, and if I lose I shall
know how to find the chap who's to blame."

He had an opportunity to "go it alone" that very morning, when Johnson
and Applerod came in to him together with a problem. Was or was not
that Chicago branch to be opened? The elder Mr. Burnit had considered
it most gravely, but had left the matter undecided. Mr. Applerod was
very keenly in favor of it, Mr. Johnson as earnestly against it, and
in his office they argued the matter with such heat that Bobby,
accepting a typed statement of the figures in the case, virtually
turned them out.

"When must you have a decision?" he demanded.

"To-morrow. We must wire either our acceptance or rejection of the
lease."

"Very well," said Bobby, quite elated that he was carrying the thing
off with an air and a tone so crisp; "just leave it to me, will you?"

He waded through the statement uncomprehendingly. Here was a problem
which was covered and still not covered by his father's observations
anent Johnson and Applerod. It was a matter for wrangling, obviously
enough, but there was no difference to split. It was a case of
deciding either yes or no. For the balance of the time until Jack
Starlett called for him at twelve-thirty, he puzzled earnestly and
soberly over the thing, and next morning the problem still weighed
upon him when he turned in at the office. He could see as he passed
through the outer room that both Johnson and Applerod were furtively
eying him, but he walked past them whistling. When he had closed his
own door behind him he drew again that mass of data toward him and
struggled against the chin-high tide. Suddenly he shoved the papers
aside, and, taking a half-dollar from his pocket, flipped it on the
floor. Eagerly he leaned over to look at it. Tails! With a sigh of
relief he put the coin back in his pocket and lit a cigarette. About
half an hour later the com