At this the General Freight Agent laughed complacently.
"The point about the demurrage especially," went on Anderson. "I didn't remember that somehow."
"Um," said the General Freight Agent in a puzzled way and picked up the transcript of the argument. As he scanned it, his face grew more puzzled; then light broke. "Yes," he replied emphatically, "that's the strongest point, in my judgment."
"Well," confessed Anderson, "it knocks me out. I am now agreeable to your construction."
The private secretary listened from his little cubby-hole with mingled exultation and apprehension. When the visitor had gone, the General Freight Agent walked in and tossed the transcript upon the secretary's table. John looked up timidly. The Mitchell brow was ridged and thoughtful.
"Hampstead," he declared with an air of grave reluctance, "I guess I'll have to lose you, after all."
"What, sir," gasped John, guilty terror shaking him somewhere inside.
At the change in John's face, Mitchell threw back his head and laughed; one of those huge, hearty, bellowing laughs at his own humor, from which he extracted so much enjoyment.
"Yes," he specified, "I am going to put you in the rate department. You have the making of a great railroad man in you. What you need now is the fundamentals. That's where you get 'em. Your brains are coming out, John. I always thought you had 'em,—but it certainly took you a long time to get any of them into the show window."
"It was seven years before you let me get to the window at all," suggested John, meaning to be a little bit vengeful.