You go
back and tell him I said that I want a signed form for everything
consigned to him the moment he learns that it's waiting for him, and I
want it right away, without fail, whether it's a single nut or a car of
sand. I want it. He's got to come to time about this now, or something's
going to drop. I'm not going to stand it any longer. How does he think
I'm going to make up my books? I wish he'd let you attend to these
matters while you're up there. It will save an awful lot of trouble in
this office and it may save him his job. There's one thing sure: he's
got to come to time from now on, or either he quits or I do."

These same o.k.s plus about twenty-five long-drawn-out reports or
calculations, retroactive and prospective, covering every possible
detail of his work from the acknowledgment of all material received up
to and including the expenditure of even so much as one mill's worth of
paper, were the bane of my good foreman's life. As I learned afterward,
he had nearly his whole family, at least a boy and two girls, assisting
him nights on this part of the work. In addition, while they were
absolutely of no import in so far as the actual work of construction was
concerned--and that was really all that interested Rourke--they were an
essential part of the system which made it possible for him to do the
work at all--a point which he did not seem to be able to get clear. At
the same time, there was an unsatisfactory side to this office
technicalia, and it was this: If a man could only sit down and reel off
a graphic account of all that he was doing, accompanied by facts and
figures, he was in excellent standing with his superiors, no matter what
his mechanical defects might be; whereas, if his reports were not clear,
or were insufficient, the efficiency of his work might well be
overlooked. In a vague way, Rourke sensed this and resented it. He knew
that his work was as good as could be done, and yet here were these
constant reports and o.k.s to irritate and delay him. Apparently they
aided actual construction no whit--but, of course, they did. Although he
was a better foreman than most, still, because of his lack of skill in
this matter of accounting, he was looked upon as more or less a failure,
especially by the chief clerk. Naturally, I explained that I would do my
best, and came away.

When I returned, however, I decided to be politic. I could not very well
work with a pick and shovel, and this was about al