ow as he looked when he came to call on me--in the
old office farther down the street. Tall and quick-tempered, and you
can imagine how strong in the fingers he was in those days! I recall I
used to keep my glove on when I shook hands with him. He was a fine
young chap, was James. Perhaps a _little_ too hasty for us
conservative New Englanders, but--" He broke off, a half-smile on his
lips.

Smith remained silent.

"It's a fault you young New Yorkers are apt to have," the Bostonian
presently went on. "Most of you are a trifle aggressive for us over
here--just a bit radical."

The other laughed good-naturedly.

"I myself should say that my honored chief had lived down his
radicalism long ago. It's lucky for Silas Osgood and Company that
there is a little of it left somewhere in the company, for the
President convalesced from his attack of radicalism in eighteen
eighty-five or thereabouts and has never been threatened with a relapse
or a recurrence. You may criticize us, sir, but you will have to admit
that unless there was a little radicalism in my own department, the
Guardian would never have accepted the lines and the liability in this
down-town district that you have sent us and are sending us now. I
hope I'm conservative enough, but with all due respect to Mr.
Wintermuth, what he calls conservatism often strikes me as dry rot."

He stopped, laughing again.

"This is not an explosive protest," he said. "It is merely the result
of having traveled on the conservative Boston and Manhattan, which
would turn a phlegmatic Pennsylvania Dutchman into a Nihilist."

Then both men laughed together, and turned their attention to the
business before them, Mr. Osgood's pale silver head close beside
Smith's brown one.

In the outer office typewriters clicked, clients hung over desks, and
the traffic of a busy morning proceeded. It was just about twelve
o'clock when the clerks nearest the door stopped their work for a brief
minute to look up and smile, for Charles Wilkinson, whenever he came to
that office, timed his arrival with a skill that was perfectly
understood by all. Mr. Wilkinson beamed blandly over the map counter,
and still more blandly inquired whether Mr. Bennington Cole was in.
Mr. Cole was, it appeared, at his desk, and Mr. Wilkinson required no
one to show him the way.

"Hello, Benny," he said cheerfully. "You hardly expected to see me
here to-day, did you? But I'm the early bird, all right.