elf, and, acting upon his doctor's advice, he
decided to take a brief respite from the cares and responsibilities of
the office. He did not think it necessary to leave New York, as the
reaction was not as yet strong enough to require any radical treatment.
A fortnight spent quietly at his home in the midst of congenial
surroundings would be entirely sufficient. During this time he denied
himself to business callers, simply keeping in touch with affairs by
means of his daily reports, which formed so strong a feature of his
business system.

"They make the yesterdays into a whip of many lashes to urge to-day on
to still greater speed," Gorham once explained. "They change the
president of the Consolidated Companies from an absentee employer into
an ubiquitous superintendent."

Because of Mr. Gorham's desire for retirement, the butler endeavored to
explain the impossibility of an interview to a tall, smooth-faced young
man who presented his card one afternoon. The caller's slight figure was
clad in a black whip-cord suit, and over his arm was thrown a neatly
folded tan overcoat. His silk hat carried a broad mourning band, and his
hands were encased in black kid gloves. Gorham's would-be visitor did
not present the most cheerful appearance, but the insistence with which
he emphasized the important nature of his business succeeded in
effecting his entrance to the hallway, where he was left until the
butler could fortify himself behind the faithful Riley's invaluable
advice.

Riley looked at the printed visiting-card, gave a violent start, and
then quickly closed his hand over it. A penetrating glance disclosed the
fact that the name had conveyed no special information to his companion,
so he hastily assumed the responsibility of handling the situation, and
hurried to the hall. Giving the visitor no opportunity to speak, Riley
placed his hand gently upon his arm, and addressed him beseechingly.

"Jimmie, me la-ad," the old man said, "is it raly yersel' come ter see
ye'er ol' fa-ather? I can't belave it, indade I can't; but 'tain't this
we must be talkin' about now. I know it's th' great man ye are, but ye
wuddent queer ye'er fa-ather by comin' ter th' front dure, wud ye? Come
now, Misther Robert ain't heard about it yit, so it's all right,
Jimmie--we'll go down-stairs an' have a nice little visit. It's proud I
am ter have ye call on me, but ye mustn't come ter th' front dure,
Jimmie--ye mustn't do that."

Riley's anxiety