our money?"

"We won't take it--not at the price you set on it," responded Farnum,
bluntly.

For the first time the capitalist appeared decidedly uneasy.

"You don't mean this, Farnum," he answered. "You're excited; perhaps
alarmed over something that I have said, or which you thought I
intimated."

"I mean just what I have said, take my word for it, sir," retorted the
boatbuilder. "We do not intend to look to you for any money that we
need. That is final, and, therefore, that is all."

"All this change of front because of these wretched boys?" demanded
George Melville, incredulously.

"Partly on account of your attitude toward these boys," admitted Mr.
Farnum, "and also because Pollard and I now realize that you had intended
to wrest control of this business from us."

"You're losing your senses," Stormed the capitalist, angrily. "Unless
you at once come to a realization of it, all we can do is to wish you
good morning."

Mr. Farnum bowed, silently, then moved toward the office door, opening
it.

"Come on, gentlemen," cried Melville, stiffly, turning toward his own
friends.

In silence the members of that group started across the floor. Mr.
Farnum, surveying them inscrutably, still held the door open.

"This is dramatic--and suicidal," said Mr. Melville, haughtily.

"You take it too seriously," replied the boatbuilder, with a slight
smile. "It is only good morning."

"You're a fool, Farnum!" came the answer as Mr. Melville, in a rage,
halted just inside the door. "And I warn you that, if we leave here,
now, we shall not return, no matter how changed your attitude may
become later. Have you any answer to that, sir?"

"Good morning," replied Jacob Farnum, with another courteous bow.

Stiffly, snorting but without words, George Melville walked out of the
office, across the outer office, and out into the yard.

In the private office the three submarine boys stood as though riveted
to the floor. They were astounded, and knew not what to say. They were
overjoyed, but incapable of expressing any word of the gratitude that
filled their young hearts.

David Pollard walked to a chair, dropping into it and studying the
ceiling.

As for the boatbuilder, he stepped briskly across the room, pulling open
the door of a cupboard. Taking out a broom, he began to sweep very
carefully where the Melville group had sat or stood, and continued his
sweeping across the threshold of the doorway. Then, return