"Good, good!" put in Macgowan heartily. "Glad to hear that, Reese! His name is worth a good deal to the company, as is his active interest. I don't imagine he'll accept, though, unless he's given real powers. This figurehead business may not appeal to him any more now than it did before—"
"Figurehead?" Dorothy glanced from one man to the other. "Just what does that mean? If he came back as president, wouldn't he have all the powers he always had?"
Macgowan started to speak, but was forestalled. Armstrong suddenly sensed what was in his wife's mind, and was startled. He leaned forward, giving a decisive thrust to his words.
"Dorothy, we want your father as president. Not with full powers, but to guide the company from a consultant position. I've pulled some of the best men in this country from their jobs, to work for Food Products. I've guaranteed these men a free hand, no interference. Your father can help them tremendously with his advice, his knowledge of the whole business; he would be an invaluable asset to us!"
"I see," murmured Dorothy, with a nod of comprehension. Her eyes rested for a moment on Macgowan, then returned to Armstrong. "Have you any idea when the sale of this stock issue will be completed?"
"Yes." Armstrong leaned back, relaxed, satisfied that she understood matters beyond any miscomprehension. "Within three or four months. The old directors failed to accomplish anything; they could not even start the ball rolling. With our investors to work on, nearly sixteen thousand of 'em, we'll put Food Products over."
"By the first of the year, eh?" Dorothy studied him a moment. "Why, I thought such things took a lot of time and work—a long campaign!"
Armstrong smiled. "Ordinarily they do. In this case, our organization is all ready to fall to work when the word comes. Besides, your father's company had the foundations laid; they got the blue sky licenses and so forth. We simply step in and sell."
"I see." Dorothy glanced again at Macgowan. "By the way, Lawrence, isn't Ried Williams some relation of yours? I think Pete Slosson spoke of it to me one day—"
Macgowan's gaze dwelt upon her for a moment. Undoubtedly, he recognized in the casualness of this question something beneath the surface. Perhaps he sensed attack.