"Mr. Henry Darby, senior and junior," announced Archibald Spreckles McIverson with a grand air, as he held the door of the private office open so that "Hank" Darby and Henry might enter. Then McIverson softly closed the portal.

"Ahem!" remarked Hank, almost as pompously as had the bank messenger. "Fine day, Mr. Hamilton."

Dick looked at Henry's father in amazement. The man was dressed in a new suit of black, and wore a silk hat. He had a necktie of vivid purple, and a red pink was in his buttonhole. He took off his tall hat and wiped his shining bald head with a big red silk handkerchief. No wonder he had impressed McIverson. Henry looked a little embarrassed, but Dick nodded at him in a friendly way, and made room for him on the sofa upon which he was sitting.

"I have called upon a little matter of business," said Mr. Darby, carefully depositing his hat on the carpet. "I and my son here," and he nodded in Henry's direction. "I may also add that your son is interested—er—to a considerable extent. In fact, I may say to an equal extent with ourselves."

"I wonder what's coming?" thought Mr. Hamilton, who had never seen Hank so well dressed, and who knew the man to be the laziest fellow in Hamilton Corners.

"Your son, Mr. Hamilton," went on Hank Darby, with a grand air that was strangely in contrast with his former attitude when one met him about town, "your son, I may state, has been the means of doing something which I long have desired to see done. He has enabled me and my son to start in business—a business that, while it is small, is capable of enormous possibilities—enormous possibilities," and Mr. Darby looked as if he would puff up like a balloon and float out of the window.

"In short," he went on, "he has loaned my son two hundred and fifty dollars, for which Henry has given his note. Of course, that is no legal security, and when I heard about it I at once set about putting the matter on a business basis."

"I don't understand," said Mr. Hamilton.

"Henry is in the old iron business, dad," explained Dick.

"Exactly," went on Mr. Darby. "The old metal business, to be more exact. I am also in it with him. Between us we have formed a company—a corporation to be more exact. I have called it The International and Consolidated Old Metal Corporation. We have a capital stock of one million dollars——"