is to be done in the other
building, and this space is to be thrown into a special cut-glass
department. I suppose the new desk is for Mr. Trimmer."

Furious, choking, Bobby left the office and strode back through the
store. The first floor passageway was already completed between the
two buildings, and a steady stream of customers was going over the
bridge from the old Burnit store into the old Trimmer store. There
were very few coming in the other direction. He had never been in Mr.
Trimmer's offices, but he found his way there with no difficulty, and
Mr. Trimmer came out of his private room to receive him with all the
suavity possible. In fact, he had been saving up suavity all morning
for this very encounter.

"Well, what can we do for you this morning, Mr. Burnit?" he wanted to
know, and Bobby, though accustomed to repression as he was, had a
sudden impulse to drive his fist straight through that false circular
smile.

"I want to know what provision has been made for me in this new
adjustment," he demanded.

"Why, Mr. Burnit," expostulated Mr. Trimmer in much apparent surprise,
"you have two hundred and sixty thousand dollars' worth of stock in
what should be the best paying mercantile venture in this city; you
are vice-president, and a member of the board of directors!"

"I have no part, then, in the active management?" Bobby wanted to
know.

"It would be superfluous, Mr. Burnit. One of the chief advantages of
such a consolidation is the economy that comes from condensing the
office and managing forces. I regretted very much indeed to dismiss
Mr. Johnson and Mr. Applerod, but they are very valuable men and
should have no difficulty in placing themselves advantageously. In
fact, I shall be glad to aid them in securing new positions."

"The thing is an outrage!" exclaimed Bobby with passion.

"My dear Mr. Burnit, it is business," said Mr. Trimmer coldly, and,
turning, went deliberately into his own room, leaving Bobby standing
in the middle of the floor.

Bobby sprang to that door and threw it open, and Trimmer, who had been
secretly trembling all through the interview, turned to him with a
quick pallor overspreading his face, a pallor which Bobby saw and
despised and ignored, and which turned his first mad impulse.

"I'd like to ask one favor of you, Mr. Trimmer," said he. "In moving
the furniture out of the John Burnit offices I should be very glad,
indeed, if you would order my father's desk removed