"Now, that's what I call a peach!" Cook whistled through his closed teeth, squinting at the sketch admiringly. "Nothing like that residence has come out of this office for a good long time. The old man don't favor houses as a rule. They're too fussy. Is this for some magnate?"
"This isn't done for the firm," Jackson answered quickly.
"Oh!" Cook received the news with evident disappointment. "Just a fancy sketch?"
"Not for a minute! This is my own business. It's for a Mrs. Phillips—her country house at Forest Park."
Cook looked again at the elevation of the large house with admiring eyes. If he had ever penetrated beyond the confines of Cook County in the state of Illinois, he might have wondered less at Hart's creation. But he was not familiar with the Loire châteaux, even in photographs, for Wright's tastes happened to be early English.
"So you're going to shake us?" Cook asked regretfully.
"Just as soon as I can have a word with Mr. Wright. This isn't the only job I have on hand."
"Is that so? Well, you're in luck, sure enough."
"Don't you want to come in?" Hart asked abruptly. "I shall want a good practical man. How would you like to run the new office?"
Cook's manner froze unexpectedly into caution.