nse of justice
to the business for which he was responsible as well as to the men
in his employ no less clearly indicated the action demanded. His sane
judgment concurred in the demand of his men for the dismissal of his
foreman. Dismissal had been rendered unnecessary by Tony's unshakable
resolve to resign his position which he declared he loathed and which
he should never have accepted. His perplexity arose from the confusion
within himself. What should he do with Tony? He had no position in his
works or in the office for which he was fit. None knew this better than
Tony himself.

"It's a joke, Mr. Maitland," he had declared, "a ghastly joke. Everybody
knows it's a joke, that I should be in command of any man when I can't
command myself. Besides, I can't stick it." In this resolve he had
persisted in spite of Mr. Maitland's entreaties that he should give the
thing another try, promising him all possible guidance and backing. But
entreaties and offers of assistance had been in vain. Tony was wild
to get away from the mill. He hated the grind. He wanted his freedom.
Vainly Mr. Maitland had offered to find another position for him
somewhere, somehow.

"We'll find a place in the office for you," he had pleaded. "I want to
see you get on, Tony. I want to see you make good."

But Tony was beyond all persuasion.

"It isn't in me," he had declared. "Not if you gave me the whole works
could I stick it."

"Take a few days to think it over," Mr. Maitland had pleaded.

"I know myself--only too well. Ask Jack, he knows," was Tony's bitter
answer. "And that's final."

"No, Tony, it is not final," had been Mr. Maitland's last word, as Tony
had left him.

But after the young man had left him there still remained the unsolved
question, What was he to do with Tony? In Mr. Maitland's heart was the
firm resolve that he would not allow Tony to go his own way. The letter
in the desk at his hand forbade that.

At his wits' end he had sent for Jack. Jack had made a football
half-back and a hockey forward out of Tony when everyone else had
failed. If anyone could divert him from that desperate downward course
to which he seemed headlong bent, it was Jack.

In a few minutes Wickes returned with the report that on receiving an
account of what had happened Jack had gone to look up Tony.

Mr. Maitland drew a breath of relief.

"Tony is all right for to-day," he said, turning to his work and leaving
the problem for the meantime to