you mean by that?" asked Tony, bitter and sullen in
face and tone.

"I am the new manager of the planing mill. Dad had you slated for that
position, but you hadn't manager-timber in you."

Tony's answer was an oath, deep and heartfelt.

"Yes," continued Jack, "manager-timber is rare and slow-growing stuff,
Tony."

Again Tony swore but kept silence, and so remained till they had reached
his home. Together they walked into the living room. There they found
Annette, and with her McNish. Both rose upon their entrance, McNish
showing some slight confusion, and assuming the attitude of a bulldog on
guard, Annette vividly eager, expectant, anxious.

"Well," she cried, her hands going fluttering to her bosom.

"I have got a job, Annette," said Tony, with a short laugh. "Here is my
boss."

For a moment the others stood looking at Jack, surprised into motionless
silence.

"I tell you, he is the new manager," repeated Tony, "and he is my boss."

"What does he mean, Jack?" cried the girl, coming forward to Maitland
with a quick, impulsive movement.

"Just what he says, Annette. I am the new manager of the planing mill
and I have given Tony a job."

Again there fell a silence. Into the eyes of the bulldog McNish there
shot a strange gleam of something that seemed almost like pleasure. In
those brief moments of silence life was readjusting itself with them
all. Maitland had passed from the rank and file of the workers into the
class of those who direct and control their work. Bred as they were and
trained as they were in the democratic atmosphere of Canada, they were
immediately conscious of the shifting of values.

Annette was the first to break silence. "I wish I could thank you," she
said, "but I cannot. I cannot." The girl's face had changed. The eager
light had faded from her dark eyes, her hands dropped quietly to her
side. "But I am sure you know," she added after a pause, "how very, very
grateful I am, how grateful we all are, Mr. Maitland."

"Annette," said Jack severely, "drop that 'Mr.' stuff. I was your friend
yesterday. Am I any less your friend to-day? True enough, I am Tony's
boss, but Tony is my friend--that is, if he wants to have it so. You
must believe this, Annette."

He offered her his hand. With a sudden impulse she took it in both of
hers and held it hard against her breast, her eyes meanwhile burning
into his with a look of adoration, open and unashamed. She apparently
forgot the others in t