nterrupted Ryder impatiently, "but not here. Down
town, to-morrow, any time. Next?"

The secretary jotted down a note against each name and then said:

"There are some people downstairs in the reception room. They are
here by appointment."

"Who are they?"

"The National Republican Committee and Sergeant Ellison of the
Secret Service from Washington," replied Mr. Bagley.

"Who was here first?" demanded the financier.

"Sergeant Ellison, sir."

"Then I'll see him first, and the Committee afterwards. But let
them all wait until I ring. I wish to speak with my son."

He waved his hand and the secretary, knowing well from experience
that this was a sign that there must be no further discussion,
bowed respectfully and left the room. Jefferson turned and
advanced towards his father, who held out his hand.

"Well, Jefferson," he said kindly, "did you have a good time
abroad?"

"Yes, sir, thank you. Such a trip is a liberal education in
itself."

"Ready for work again, eh? I'm glad you're back, Jefferson. I'm
busy now, but one of these days I want to have a serious talk with
you in regard to your future. This artist business is all very
well--for a pastime. But it's not a career--surely you can
appreciate that--for a young man with such prospects as yours.
Have you ever stopped to think of that?"

Jefferson was silent. He did not want to displease his father; on
the other hand, it was impossible to let things drift as they had
been doing. There must be an understanding sooner or later. Why
not now?

"The truth is, sir," he began timidly, "I'd like a little talk
with you now, if you can spare the time."

Ryder, Sr., looked first at his watch and then at his son, who,
ill at ease, sat nervously on the extreme edge of a chair. Then he
said with a smile:

"Well, my boy, to be perfectly frank, I can't--but--I will.
Come, what is it?" Then, as if to apologize for his previous
abruptness, he added, "I've had a very busy day, Jeff. What with
Trans-Continental and Trans-Atlantic and Southern Pacific, and
Wall Street, and Rate Bills, and Washington I feel like Atlas
shouldering the world."

"The world wasn't intended for one pair of shoulders to carry,
sir," rejoined Jefferson calmly.

His father looked at him in amazement. It was something new to
hear anyone venturing to question or comment upon anything he
said.

"Why not?" he demanded, when he had recovered from his surprise.
"Julius Caesar carried it. Napo