R. R. That's doing pretty well, isn't it?
We're both going to quit and look for new work."
"Do you drink, Kirk?"
"I haven't even had an alcohol rub since I left New York. But,
dad, if you place me, you'll have to take care of Runnels, too. He
knows more about railroads than--you do."
Mr. Anthony grunted a trifle sceptically at this and murmured: "He
must be a bright young man. I suppose what he doesn't know, you
do. Well, how would you both like to come North and give me some
lessons?"
"Do you mean it?" they cried in chorus.
"I do."
"Oh, there's Allan, too, he'll have to go."
"Any cats and dogs you'd like to have drawing salary from me? Now
let's go somewhere and eat. I haven't tasted anything to speak of
since Clifford's message came."
"If you don't mind, I--I'd like to stop at the Garavels' for a
minute," Kirk said, longingly, and his father scowled.
"I'd forgotten this--wife of yours."
"She's not there," Runnels hastened to say. "I've tried to find
her, but I was told she was out at the country place."
"Then I think I'd rather drive out there than eat. Won't you go
with me, dad?"
"Well--yes! I want to see this banker fellow, and--I'm not so
damned hungry, after all. We'll settle this thing right now.
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