He felt a little thrill
of pleasure--he was quite conscious of it. It was delightful to have
his only son in a business discussion, at the familiar old desk,
with the fire glowing, the wind rattling the windows and the rain
lashing the panes. Sir Archibald was a business man; and now he
realized for the first time that Archie was grown to a companionable
age. This, after all, he reflected, was what he had been working for:
To engage in business with his own son.

"Then you want credit?" said he.

"Look here, dad!" Archie burst out; "of course, I want credit. I'll
tell you all about it," he rattled anxiously. "We want--we means Billy
Topsail, Jimmie Grimm, Donald North and me--they're all Ruddy Cove
fellows, you know--we want to charter the _On Time_ at Ruddy Cove,
call her the _Spot Cash_, stock her cabin and hold--she's only a
twenty-tonner--and ship Bill o' Burnt Bay for skipper and trade the
ports of White Bay and the French Shore. All the boys----"

[Illustration: "--WE WANT TO CHARTER THE _ON TIME_ AND TRADE THE PORTS OF
THE FRENCH SHORE."]

"My traders," Sir Archibald interrupted, quietly, "are trading White
Bay and the French Shore."

"I know it, dad," Archie began eagerly, "but----"

"Will you compete with them?" Sir Archibald asked, his eyes wide open.
"The _Black Eagle_ sails north on a trading voyage in a fortnight.
She's loading now."

"That's all right," said Archie, blithely. "We're going to----"

"Encounter harsh competition," Sir Archibald put in, dryly. "How will
you go about it?"

Archie had been fidgeting in his chair--hardly able to command his
politeness.

"A cash trader!" he burst out.

"Ah!" Sir Archibald drawled, enlightened. "I see. I see-ee!"

"We'll be the only cash trader on the coast, dad," Archie continued;
"and we'll advertise--and carry a phonograph--and sell under the
credit prices--and----"

Sir Archibald whistled in chagrin.

"And we'll make good," Archie concluded.

"You little pirate!" Sir Archibald ejaculated.

Father and son laughed together. Then Sir Archibald began to drum on
the desk with his finger-tips. Presently he got up and began to pace
the floor, his hands thrust deep in his pockets, his lips pursed, his
brows drawn in a scowl of reflection. This was a characteristic thing.
Sir Archibald invariably paced, and pursed his lips, and scowled, when
a problem of more than ordinary interest engaged him. He knew that
Archie's plan was not unreasonable. Ther