But I warn you the thing
is in no other's power. Well, I have finished. You must choose whether
your directors go or not."

There was an awkward silence, and then somebody asked: "Will the
chairman state if he has a plan for meeting a situation he admits is
difficult?"

Cartwright smiled rather grimly. "I will not make a public statement
that might be useful to our antagonists! So long as I am chairman, you
must trust me. My proposition is, give us six months, and then, if
things are no better, we will welcome a committee of inquiry. In the
meantime, a motion is before the meeting--"

"It is proposed and seconded that the directors' report and balance
sheet be accepted," Gavin remarked.

The resolution was carried, the directors were reelected, and the
meeting broke up. Cartwright sat down rather limply and wiped his face.

"I pulled it off, but they pushed me hard," he said. "At one time, it
looked as if our defenses would go down."

"You have put off the reckoning; I think that's all," one of the
directors remarked.

"We have six months," said Cartwright. "This is something. If they call
a meeting then, I imagine I can meet them."

He signed to Gavin, who helped him with his big coat, and went off to
the underground restaurant, where he presently fell asleep in a chair by
the fire.

CHAPTER VIII

A STOLEN EXCURSION

Barbara stopped at the top of James Street and looked down hill to the
river. The afternoon was dark and the pavement wet. Thin fog drifted
about the tall offices, lights shone in the windows, and she heard
steamers' whistles. Down the street, a white plume of steam, streaking
the dark-colored fog, marked the tunnel station, and Barbara glanced at
a neighboring clock.

She could get a train in a few minutes, but she would be forced to wait
at a station on the Cheshire side, and there was not another train for
some time. She had bought the things she needed and did not know what to
do. One could pass half an hour at a cafe; but Mrs. Cartwright did not
like her to go to a cafe; alone and Barbara frowned impatiently. Her
mother was horribly conventional and Barbara missed the freedom she had
enjoyed in Canada. In fact, it was very dull at home; Grace's correct
serenity and cold disapproval made one savage; Mortimer's very proper
friends were tiresome.

Barbara was restless and dissatisfied. She wanted to play an active part
and feel she was alive. Moreover, since she came home she had f