TOMMY was at his old desk in the outer office when Thompson arrived on Monday morning.

“How do you do, Mr. Thompson?” said Tommy, boyishly trying not to look as grateful as he felt.

Thompson stopped and shook hands. “I want to get off some letters. Tell Miss Hollins I need her, won't you? When she comes out you come in”; and Thompson passed on.

Tommy waited for the stenographer to come out of Mr. Thompson's office. Then he walked in.

“Who talks first?” asked Thompson.

Tommy, thinking of Bill's needs, said, “I think I'd better.”

“Go ahead!” smiled Thompson.

Then Tommy told him about Bill's experiments and what he and Bill had done and what Professor Jenkins said, and then showed him Mr. Kemble's letter, which Thompson read carefully. Tommy waited. Thompson folded the letter, returned it to Tommy, and said:

“Tommy, you knew what you didn't have, so you went to the right place to get it.”

“Yes, sir. Bill wants to see you.”

Thompson laughed, somewhat to Tommy's surprise, and said, “Go and bring him in now.” Presently Tommy appeared with Bill.

“Good morning, Mr. Thompson,” said Bill. Thompson nodded. Then he asked Bill, quietly, “Well?”

“Tommy told you, I believe.”

“He didn't tell me what sort of man you are nor what sort of man you think I am. So all I can ask you is: What do you really want me to do?”

“I don't want you to do anything,” answered Bill, uncomfortably.

“I understand you have been experimenting with a kerosene-carburetor. A carburetor is one of a thousand problems to us. To you it is your only problem. Please bear that in mind. You may develop something of great value to all users of explosive engines. But I cannot tell you the exact number of dollars I'll pay for the improvements and patents you haven't got yet. I propose, instead, this: Give us the refusal of your inventions and improvements. Let your own lawyer draw up the papers that you and he think necessary to prevent us from buying your brains too cheaply. I believe you are honest, and I always bet on my judgment. That's my business.”

“But suppose you thought my price was too high?” asked Bill, defiantly.

“You are free to sell to the highest bidder. I think we can afford to pay as much as the next man. To make it fair for us to have the first call on your inventions, we will give you the use of the shop and laboratories, machinery, materials, and such help as you need. Then we'll lend you money for your living expenses, on your unsecured notes, without interest, for as long a time as you need—say, five or ten years. You will take out the patents in your own name at your own expense. You don't have to assign them to us. If we pay you on a royalty basis we pledge ourselves not to keep others from using your inventions if we ourselves don't. You come and see me when you've settled the conditions and terms to your satisfaction. Bring as many lawyers with you as you wish. Now, Bill,” finished Mr. Thompson, “go ahead and ask your two questions.”

“What two questions?” asked Bill, who had followed Mr. Thompson's speech with some difficulty by reason of a surprise not far removed from incredulity.

“First, why I offer to do so much for you without binding you to sell to us at our own price; and, second, where the joker is in my offer, anyhow.”

“I wasn't going to ask anything of the kind.” Bill spoke with much dignity.

“They are perfectly natural questions to ask, unless you had made up your mind to accept any offer blindly. I'd like to answer them, anyhow.”

“Then I guess you'd better,” said Bill, a trifle defiantly.

“I made that proposition to you because I've made it to others. I want you to realize as quickly as you can that in working for the company you are working for yourself. When a man is neither a hog nor an ass, I am perfectly willing to do business with him on his own terms. Just take it for granted that I know you as well as you know yourself. Am I taking such an awful risk, Bill?”

“But you don't know me,” said Bill, in duty bound.

Thompson smiled. “Well, your first question is answered. Now for the second.”

“There is no need of it, Mr. Thompson,” said Bill, with decision.

“Give me the pleasure of letting me tell you that there is no joker.”

Bill looked steadily at Mr. Thompson and said, “I didn't think there was any.”

“But now you know it,” said Thompson.

“And I want to say that Tommy here is my partner—” began Bill.

“That's all nonsense,” interjected Tommy, quickly.

“Yes,” agreed Mr. Thompson, very seriously, “that's all nonsense. But both of you had better look a long time before you swap that kind of nonsense for wisdom. Don't be brothers in business if you want to be rich and lonely. Bill, Tommy is buncoing us out of thirty dollars a week. Is that enough for you?”

“It's more than enough,” said Bill, eagerly.

“Then it is just enough to be contented with. Get to work as soon as you can. You have no time to waste, because from now on Byrnes is working for Byrnes. It will suit me down to the ground. Draw up your own contract and bring it here.”

Bill looked at Thompson. Then he said, resolutely, “I will!”

“Both of you go somewhere now and talk it over. Tommy, I'll see you to-morrow about your own work. I've got a man-sized job for you. Good morning.” Thompson nodded and, turning to his desk, pushed one of the row of call-buttons. His attitude showed he expected no further speech, so they left the room without another word.

Outside Tommy turned to Bill. “What did I tell you—hey?”

“You poor pill, do you think I've worked here two years for nothing? You bet I'll get a hustle on. Do you think we ought to get a lawyer?”

“Yes; he meant what he said. You needn't worry about the price he'll pay for your invention. Just get to work.”

“What is your job going to be?” asked Bill, curiously.

“I don't know. But I hope—” Tommy caught himself on the verge of expressing the hope that it would be something which might enable him to bury the secret once for all.

“What do you hope, Tommy?”

“That you will land with both feet, now that you have a decent place to experiment in,” said Tommy. He couldn't say anything else to poor Bill, could he? It wasn't his secret to share with anybody, and, anyhow, he meant what he said.

Mr. Thompson did not make his appearance at the works until late in the afternoon. He told Tommy:

“You'll have to dine with me to-night, Tommy, Will you?”

“Yes, sir.” Then realizing that he merely had obeyed a superior, he added, in his personal capacity, “Delighted!”

“Has Bill done anything?”

“He consulted Mr. Williams.”

Thompson shook his head. “He is our lawyer.”

“That's why Bill picked him out,” said Tommy. He felt like adding that he thought Bill considered that the Thompsonian thing to do. Thompson looked at him meditatively.

“What a wonderful thing youth is,” he mused, “and how very wise in its unwisdom.” He nodded to himself. Then: “You let Bill alone. He's saved. To-night at six-thirty. Mrs. Thompson has not yet returned, but you are going to meet her as soon as she does. You might take Bill to La Grange and say I said Bill was to have everything he asks for. Don't bother to dress, Tommy.” Mr. Thompson nodded, a trifle absently it seemed to Tommy, and went into his office. And Tommy wasn't aware that the mixing of his personal affairs with the shop's business made him belong to the company utterly.

After dinner, as they drank their coffee in the library, Thompson asked him:

“Don't you smoke?”

“Not any more.”

“Why not?”

“I gave up smoking when I felt I couldn't afford it. I smoked rather expensive cigarettes.”

“You can afford them now.”

“Well, I don't quite feel that I can; and, anyhow, the craving isn't very strong.”

“Tommy, my idea of happiness would be the conviction that the more I smoked the better I'd feel. Do you mind talking shop here, Tommy?”

“Not a bit; in fact, I—” He caught himself on the verge of saying that Mr. Thompson could not pick out a more pleasing topic. Thompson smiled slightly. Then he leaned back in his chair and relaxed physically.

“Tommy”—he spoke very quietly—“I think I know you now so that I don't have to ask you to tell me anything more about yourself. In fact, I know you so well that I am going to talk to you about myself.”

Tommy's expectancy was aroused to such a high pitch so suddenly that he was distinctly conscious of a thrill. Mr. Thompson went on: “Can you guess what made me go into automobile manufacturing?”

“I suppose you saw very clearly the possibilities of the business,” ventured Tommy, not over-confidently.

It seemed too commonplace a reason, and yet it was common sense.

“I won't be modest with you, Tommy. I'll say right out that few men who develop a big business successfully are primarily concerned with the cash profits. The work itself must grip them. Of course when the reward is money, if they make a great deal this merely proves how efficient their work is. As a matter of fact, I went into this business twelve years ago because—” Thompson paused. His eyes were half closed and his lips half smiling, as if he were looking at young Thompson and rather enjoying the sight; the paternal mood that comes over a man of forty when he gets a glimpse of the boy he used to be. He went on, “Because I had a dream about a pair of roller-skates.”

“Roller-skates? Were you in that business?”

“I wasn't in any business. I had tried half a dozen things, only to give them up. And each time people told me I was a fool not to stick to what I was in, especially as I was making good. But I couldn't see myself devoting my whole life to such work. I was on my way to talk to a man who had lost all his teeth. He had a proposition that looked good to me.”

He glanced at Tommy, but Tommy shook his head and paid Thompson the stupendous compliment of not smiling.

“Don't you see, my boy, he had no teeth, but he had brains. Therefore he capitalized his misfortune. He'd got dyspepsia because he could not masticate and hated soup. So he invented a machine for chewing food not only for the toothless, but for the thoughtless who bolt their food. Not a food-chopper, but a food-grinder. No more dyspepsia; no need of Fletcherizing; the machine did it for you. He had evolved a series of easy maxillary motions to stimulate the salivary glands, and he had gathered together hundreds of quotations from the poets and from scientists and wise men of all time. I tell you it promised.

“Well, as I was going along, cheered by the vision of an undyspeptic country as well as of our selling campaign, a little boy bumped into me—hard! But I didn't get angry with him, because he was on roller-skates, and I then and there had one of my dreams. I saw a day when all sidewalks would consist of two parallel tracks or roadways, very smooth, of some vitrified material. And I saw every human being with a pair of rubber-tired auto-skates run by radium batteries. And, of course, that made me decide not to see the toothless man but to go into automobiles.”

Tommy was listening with his very soul. The more we know of our heroes the less apt we are to worship them. But this hero's autobiography, instead of destroying illusions, really intensified the sense of difference on which most hero-worship is founded.

“My mind,” observed Tommy, ruefully, “wouldn't work that way.”

“Oh yes, it would if you'd let it, instead of thinking that dreaming is folly. A man who keeps his eyes open can get valuable suggestions from even his most futile wishes. Autos were considered luxuries then, but I saw the second phase, even to the greater health of the community and the increase in suburban land values. Better artificial lighting has lengthened man's working-day, but the stupendous world-revolution of the nineteenth century was effected by the locomotive and the steamship. When man ceased to depend upon wind and oats for moving from place to place, he changed politics, science, commerce—everything. Indeed, all the that now afflict us have arisen from the changes which make it impossible for the old-time famines to follow crop failures in certain localities. They have raised the standard of living and should have put an end to poverty as they have to political inequality. Well, there is no need to philosophize about it.”

“It is very interesting,” said Tommy.

“Yes, it is. That is why I went into the manufacture of automobiles. They are a necessity. That is precisely why I want this company to be doing business long after you and I are dust and forgotten.”

Thompson looked at Tommy, a heavy frown on his face—exactly as if he were fighting on, even after death, thought Tommy. It made the youngster whisper, “Yes!”

“So I formed the company. I had to dwell on the money profit to raise capital. Nobody knew I was a dreamer. I began without experience, but I saw to it, Tommy, that I also began without prejudices. I have learned a great deal in ten years. I have studied automobiles constantly, but even when I was working merely to make money I saw the work going on after me. So I have felt it necessary to study men even more closely than machinery and manufacturing processes. No man can tell what the product of this company will be twenty years hence; it may be flying-machines. But we ought to know; the men who will be running it then—the product of the company's policy! The kind of men I want to-day is the kind that will be wanted to-morrow, that will be wanted always! Do you see?”

“Yes, sir,” said Tommy.

“It was no hard job to make money. It was infinitely harder to convince my associates that there was more money in reducing our immediate profits in order to make ours a permanent investment. I am now ready to throw a million dollars' worth of machinery and patterns into the scrap-heap. We shall manufacture a car very soon that will not need much changing for ten years. Of course we'll improve and refine and simplify it as we find advisable. I'll be able to carry out some of my dreams now. This time the dream comes after the product!”

Tommy did not know what the dream was and he couldn't see the product; but he imagined a wonderful time to come.

“It's great!” he gasped.

“It is more difficult to eliminate the undesirable man than the inefficient employee. My men are not yet all that I wish, but they will be after they have worked in our new plant a few months. I have studied all the methods that manufacturers and managers have used to foster and reward the competitive spirit among workmen. I want team-work as well as individual efficiency, but my men must all be Tecumseh men. Do you love the company?”

“You bet I do!” And Tommy's eyes glistened.

“Are you sure it isn't merely gratitude for Thompson?” And Thompson looked so serious that Tommy was compelled to be honest. He thought before he answered.

“Of course it is both.”

“I don't want you to think of Thompson, but of the Tecumseh.”

“But how can I think of the company and not think of you?”

“By thinking not of the president and not of yourself, but of the work—the work that will be here long after Thompson and Leigh are gone. I will give you an opportunity to develop yourself along those lines which will most gratify the desires of your grown manhood.”

Tommy nodded his head twice quickly, and drew in a deep breath.

“To be intelligently selfish you must be intelligently unselfish. You must love the Tecumseh for what the Tecumseh will do for you. Do you see that?”

“Yes,” answered Tommy; “but I'd love it even if—”

“That's because you are a boy with a wonderful unlived life. Keep it up, because unreasoning love is a good foundation for the maturer habit of affection from which I expect the Tecumseh stockholders and the Tecumseh employees alike to benefit. I am after a family feeling. Some day I'll tell you the story of Bob Holland, the treasurer of the company, the only man I know who thinks of dollars as an annoying necessity, but of the Tecumseh finances in terms of health insurance. He is one of my Experiments.” And Thompson smiled.

Knowing that he also was one and fearing because he was, Tommy, who did not feel like smiling, smiled as he asked:

“Are all your Experiments always successful?”

“Always,” answered Thompson, emphatically. “Always,” he repeated, and looked unsmilingly at Tommy. And Tommy made up his mind that the least he could do was to see to it that Thompson's record was not broken.

“Grosvenor is another, and Nevin,” went on Thompson. “You know them. La Grange is still a Sophomore, but on the right road. Bill Byrnes is a first-day Freshman. Watch him. I won't give the others away. You know Leonard Herrick?”

“Yes, sir.”

“But you don't know why I pay him a salary?”

“No, sir.”

“For his grouch. I made him cultivate it, until from being merely a personal pleasure he elevated it to the dignity of an impersonal art. What was only a grouch has become intelligent faultfinding. He is the cantankerous customer on tap, the flaw-picking perfection-seeker, our critic-in-chief. He is a walking encyclopedia of objections, and they have to be good ones. He's a wonder!”

Thompson paused and looked at Tommy doubtfully. Tommy wondered why.

“It used to worry me whenever I thought of that man's family life, so I looked about for a wife for him, and when I found the woman I wanted I married him off to her before he could say Jack Robinson. She is very happy. She is stone-deaf and has borne him two children—both girls. I didn't arrange for their sex, Tommy; honest I didn't; but I prayed for girls! Anyhow, he got them. He'll butt his head against them in vain; they are women and they will be modern women. They will preserve his grouch until he's through living. His usefulness to the company will thus be unimpaired and he'll die in harness, grouchy and an asset to the end. Do you still want to know whether all my Experiments are successful?”

Thompson looked so meaningly at Tommy that Tommy flushed as he answered:

“I don't know whether I can ever do anything to repay you—”

“The company, Tommy,” corrected Thompson, quickly.

“But I know I'd rather work here for five dollars a week than anywhere else for a hundred.”

“That answers your question. Now for your job!” Thompson became so serious that Tommy knew his would be a difficult task. Well, he would do it or die trying!

“Your job is to be the one man in the employ of the Tecumseh Motor Company who can walk into the president's private office at any time without knocking.”

Thompson was frowning so earnestly that Tommy felt a sharp pang of mortification at his own failure to grasp exactly what the job meant. But Thompson went on:

“You will find, Tommy, that even wise men can be unreasonable and square men can be petty and brave men can whine—at times. But in the end their errors correct themselves, just as political fallacies do in the affairs of a nation. You must help the men to feel toward the Tecumseh as you do. It is a big job. If you make good I can tell you that all of us will be in your debt, no matter what your salary may be.”

Thompson spoke so earnestly that Tommy said: “How can I ever be to them what you are to me? How can I possibly be that?”

“Always be ready to put yourself in the other man's place, but insist upon a fair exchange and make him put himself in your place, which is very difficult indeed, but not impossible. The new plant will make it easier for you. It will be the model plant of the world, not only as to machinery, but also as to comfort and looks! I will make the men boast of it. I have elaborate plans for the democratization of this place, and I am not neglecting self-interest or vanity. Bonuses, pensions, honor rolls, and such things are easy. What is not so easy is to make the men glad to work for and with the company. I haven't many precedents to guide me, and so many plans that promised well and looked fine on paper have failed, sometimes failed inexplicably. My men must be both free men and Tecumseh men, and they have no life habit to help them in this—such as the convention of patriotism, for example. I warn you, Tommy, that you must be one of my principal assistants. You will represent in my office all the men who are getting less than ten dollars a day. You must do more than present their grievances—anticipate them! There is no string to this. In fighting for them you will be fighting for me and for yourself and for the whole Tecumseh family. And now do you want to let me beat you at billiards before you go home?”

“Mr. Thompson, I couldn't hold a cue just now if my life depended on it. I want to think about what you have told me. I'm afraid I am not old enough to—”

“I've given you the biggest job in the shop because, being very young, you have no experience to make a coward of you. And don't think too much about the preambles to your own speeches hereafter. Good night, Tommy.”