One afternoon in March the door of Mr. Van Amrandt’s private office opened and the president himself stood on the threshold with a paper in his hand.
“I say, Gormley, come here, will you?” and he retired again to his desk.
Phil rose and entered the private room.
“Shut the door and sit down. I have here the report of Jasper who has been assaying up at Brunt’s “duck pond.” He reports forty-one dollars to the ton—a little better than your own estimate.”
Phil’s heart beat away at a tremendous rate all this while, and when the result of the assay was announced it seemed to stop altogether. The president continued in a most matter-of-fact tone:
“I have just told the engineer to go over those plans of yours which he has approved in a general way and, in connection with yourself, perfect the details of your device.”
Phil seemed to hear this from a great distance, and Mr. Van Amrandt seemed to be far off and in a sort of mist. He could not move or speak or even think—he could only comprehend the joyful news.
“By the time the designs are perfected I shall have procured the necessary appropriation from the directors for the machinery. They have terrible tales to tell of the weather up in the Notch it seems, Gormley; only last week there was a heavy fall of snow which the superintendent says is swelling the streams greatly as it melts. To return to the subject, though, I have just sent Jasper’s messenger back with a message to Brunt, asking him to come into town to sign a conveyance of his claim to the company; then we will issue the new stock to Brunt and yourself on the basis we spoke of last month.”
By this time Phil had regained his self-possession. He rose and began:
“Mr. Van Amrandt, I thank you very——” when the door opened and Sol Brunt appeared on the threshold. He advanced dejectedly and said: