XXVIII
Who is managing?” said Simeon.
They had finished breakfast and sat with chairs pushed back from the table. It was the first question he had asked about the road. He had devoted himself to the business of getting well as thoroughly as to any business he had ever undertaken. But he was well now. “Who is managing!’ he said quietly.
The young man looked at him with a frank smile. “Nobody is managing,” he said—“That ’s the worst of it. I ’ve been doing things—things that had to be done—and trying to stave off other people’s managing.”
Simeon nodded quickly. “That ’s the best thing could have happened. I hope you ’ve done it.”
“Well, not altogether—The men in the office were all right.... But the directors fidgeted some—”
“Corbin,” said Simeon, “I know.”
The young man nodded.
“Oh, I know,” said Simeon testily. “And Dickerman, I suppose—yes, yes, I know—Go ahead now—Tell me everything.” He leaned forward with elbows on the table—the old alert look in his eyes.