"Very well," she said, "you have a right to your own way—but remember, this still leaves me free."
"You know it!" he exclaimed, "as the desert wind! Shake hands on it—we're going to be friends!"
"I hope so," she said, "but sometimes I'm afraid. We must wait a while and be sure."
"Ah, 'wait'!" he scolded. "But I don't like that word—but come on, let's get down to business. Where's this Abercrombie Jepson? I want to talk to him, and then we'll go out to the mine."
He grabbed up his hat and began to stride about the office, running his hand lovingly over the polished mahogany furniture, and Mary Fortune spoke a few words into the phone.
"He'll be here in a minute," she said and began to straighten out the papers on her desk. Even to Rimrock Jones, who was far from systematic, it was evident that she knew her work. Every paper was put back in its special envelope, and when Abercrombie Jepson came in from his office she had the bundle back in the safe.
He was a large man, rather fat and with a ready smile, but with a harried look in his eye that came from handling a thousand details; and as Rimrock turned and faced him he blinked, for he felt something was coming.
"Mr. Jepson," began Rimrock in his big, blustering voice, "I want to have an understanding with you. You're a Stoddard man, but I think you're competent—you certainly have put things through. But here's the point—I've taken charge now and you get your orders from me. You can forget Mr. Stoddard. I'm president and general manager, and whatever I say goes."
He paused and looked Jepson over very carefully while Mary Fortune stared.
"Very well, sir," answered Jepson, "I think I understand you. I hope you are satisfied with my services?"