rt suit."

Nearly a week goes by without another word from Mr. Ellins. And every
night as Brink streamed out with the advance guard at 5 o'clock he'd
stop long enough at my desk to swap a grin with me and whisper: "Well, I
won't have to break the news to Dad tonight, anyway."

"Nor to the young lady, either," says I.

"Oh, I had to spill it to Marjorie, first crack," says he. "She's
helping me hold my breath."

And then here yesterday mornin', as I'm helping Old Hickory sort the
mail, he picks out a letter from our Western manager and slits it open.

"Hah!" says he, through his cigar. "I think this solves our problem,
Torchy."

"Yes, sir?" says I, gawpin'.

"Call in that young humorist of yours from the bond room," says he.

And I yanks Brink Hollis off the high stool impetuous.

"Know anything about industrial welfare work, young man?" demands Old
Hickory of him.

"I've seen it mentioned in magazine articles," says Brink, "but that's
about all. Don't think I ever read one."

"So much the better," says Mr. Ellins. "You'll have a chance to start in
fresh, with your own ideas."

"I--I beg pardon?" says Brink, starin' puzzled.

"You're good at play organizing, aren't you," goes on Old Hickory.
"Well, here's an opportunity to spread yourself. One of the
manufacturing units we control out in Ohio. Three thousand men, in a
little one-horse town where there's nothing better to do in their spare
time than go to cheap movies and listen to cheaper walking delegates. I
guess they need you more than we do in the bond room. Organize 'em as
much as you like. Show 'em how to play. Give that He-Crab act if you
wish. We'll start you in at a dollar a man. That satisfactory?"

I believe Brink tried to say it was, only what he got out was so choky
you could hardly tell. But he goes out beamin'.

"Well!" says Old Hickory, turnin' to me. "I suppose he'll call that
coming safely out of a nose dive, eh?"

"Or side-slippin' into success," says I. "I think you've picked another
winner, Mr. Ellins."

"Huh!" he grunts. "You mean you think you helped me do it. But I want
you to understand, young man, that I learned to be tolerant of other
people's failings long before you were born. Toleration. It's the
keystone of every big career. I've practiced it, too, except--well,
except after a bad night."

And then, seein' that rare flicker in Old Hickory's eyes, I gives him
the grin. Oh, sure you can. It's all in knowin' when.