e best we've ever done is one to one hundred and
eighty-eight. Reduce! Good morning."

"Mr. Goodchild," said Hendrik Rutgers, approaching the president, "won't
you please listen to what I have to say?"

Mr. Goodchild was one of those business men who in their desire to
conduct their affairs efficiently become mind-readers in order to save
precious time. He knew what Rutgers was going to say, and therefore
anticipated it by answering:

"I am very sorry for the sickness in your family. The best I can do is
to let you remain with us for a little while, until whoever is sick is
better." He nodded with great philanthropy and self-satisfaction.

But Hendrik said, very earnestly: "If I were content with my job I
wouldn't be worth a whoop to the bank. What makes me valuable is that I
want to be more. Every soldier of Napoleon carried a marshal's baton in
his knapsack. That gave ambition to Napoleon's soldiers, who always won.
Let your clerks understand that a vice-presidency can be won by any of
us and you will see a rise in efficiency that will surprise you. Mr.
Goodchild, it is a matter of common sense to--"

"Get out!" said the president.

Ordinarily he would have listened. But he had lost money; that made him
think only of one thing--that he had lost money!

The general had suddenly discovered that his fortress was not
impregnable! He did not wish to discuss feminism.

Of course, Hendrik did not know that the president's request for
solitude was a confession of weakness and, therefore, in the nature of a
subtle compliment. And therefore, instead of feeling flattered, Hendrik
saw red. It is a common mistake. But anger always stimulated his
faculties. All men who are intelligent in their wrath have in them the
makings of great leaders of men. The rabble, in anger, merely becomes
the angry rabble--and stays rabble.

Hendrik Rutgers aimed full at George G. Goodchild, Esq., a look of
intense astonishment.

"Get out!" repeated the president.

Hendrik Rutgers turned like a flash to the cashier and said, sharply:
"Didn't you hear? _Get out!_"

"You!" shouted Mr. George G. Goodchild.

"Who? _Me?_" Hendrik's incredulity was abysmal.

"Yes! You!" And the president, dangerously flushed, advanced
threateningly toward the insolent beast.

"What?" exclaimed Hendrik Rutgers, skeptically. "Do you mean to tell me
you really are the jackass your wife thinks you?"

Fearing to intrude upon private affairs, the cashier discre