"Come to a meeting of the League some
time, Henry, and we'll give you a chance to air your views."

He reported the interview to Anna, and she seemed to find in it the
material for reflection. She asked Henry if he thought that Mr. Mix
was deliberately making up to Mirabelle. Henry reflected, also.

* * * * *

In January, Henry had an interview with Mr. Archer, who went over his
books with a fine-tooth comb, and praised him for his accomplishment.

"But it only goes to show how the best intentions in the world can get
all twisted up," said Mr. Archer, gravely. "Here you've done what you
were supposed to do--you've done it better than you were supposed to
do it--and then because of that cussed enforcement that neither your
uncle nor I ever dreamed about, you're liable to get punished just as
badly as if you'd made a complete failure. It's a shame, Henry, it's
a downright shame!"

"We're packing 'em in pretty well," said Henry. "I figured out that if
we sold every seat at every performance we'd collect fourteen hundred
a week gross. We're actually taking in about eight fifty. That's a
local record, but it isn't good enough."

"No, you seem to be shy about--three thousand to date. You've got to
make that up, and hit a still higher average for the next seven
months, and I'm blessed if _I_ can see how you're going to do it."

"Oh, well, I'll have the theatre. That's something."

"Yes, it'll bring you a good price. But not a half of what you
_should_ have had. One thing, Henry, I wish your uncle could know how
you're taking it. As far as I know, you haven't swung a golf club or
sat a horse for six months, have you?"

"Oh, shucks!... When Uncle John went to a ball game, he always liked
to see a man run like fury on a fly ball. Nine times out of ten an
outfielder'd catch it and the batter'd get a big hoot from the
grand-stand. The other time he'd drop it, and the batter'd take two
bases. That's all I'm doing now. Playing the percentage. And golf
takes too much time--even if there weren't snow on the ground--and
stable feed's so high _I_ can't afford it. The fool horse would cost
more to feed than I do myself."

"And even if the percentage beats you, you've got something you never
had before, Henry, and that's the solid respect of your community.
Everybody knows you hated this job. Everybody's back of you."

"Up on the farm," said Henry, thoughtfully. "There was a field-hand