bent over the chess-board, and Quin was conscious of
those piercing black eyes studying him and grimly approving when he made
a good play. For the first time, he began to rather like Mr. Bangs, and
to experience a thrill of satisfaction in winning his good opinion.

Only once was the game interrupted. The colored chauffeur who had driven
them out came to the door and asked:

"Shall I lay the table for two or three, sir?"

Mr. Bangs lifted his head long enough to give him one annihilating
glance.

"I have but one guest," he said significantly. "Set the table for two."

The dinner was one of the best Quin had ever tasted, and his frank
enjoyment of it, and franker comment, seemed further to ingratiate him
with Mr. Bangs, who waxed almost agreeable in discussing the various
viands.

After dinner they returned to the library and lit their cigars, and Quin
waited hopefully.

This time he was not to be disappointed.

"Graham," said Mr. Bangs, "what salary are you drawing?"

"One hundred and fifty, sir."

"How long have you been at the factory?"

"A year last February."

"Not so long as I thought. You are satisfied, I take it?"

Quin saw his chance and seized it.

"It's all right until I can get something better."

Mr. Bangs relit his cigar, and took his time about it. Then he blew out
the match and threw it on the floor.

"I am looking for a new traffic manager," he said.

"What's the matter with Mr. Shields?" Quin inquired in amazement.

"I have fired him. He talks too much. I want a man to manage traffic, not
to superintend a Sunday-school."

"But Mr. Shields has been there for years!"

"That's the trouble. I want a younger man--one who is abreast of the
times, familiar with modern methods."

Quin's heart leaped within him. Could Mr. Bangs be intimating that he,
Quinby Graham, with one year and four months' experience, might step over
the heads of all of those older and more experienced aspirants into the
empty shoes of the former traffic manager?

The South Seas seemed to flow just around the corner.

"I have been considering the matter," continued Mr. Bangs, catching a
white moth between his thumb and forefinger and taking apparent pleasure
in its annihilation, "and I've decided not to get a new man in for the
summer, but to let you take the work for the present and see what you can
do with it."

Quin's joy was so swift and sudden that even the formidable banks of Mr.
Bangs's presence could