Every one smiled and nodded.
Mr. Croyden hung up his hat and motioning Theo to do the same turned to encounter a pile of mail that lay on his desk.
"Bless my soul, this is too bad!" he exclaimed. "Don't tell me that to-day when I had planned to make a tour through the factory Uncle Sam has come down on me with all this stuff!"
He glanced ruefully at the letter lying topmost on the heap; then at the second one.
"I am afraid these will have to be attended to, Theo," he said with regret. "Should you be dreadfully disappointed if I were to turn you over to some one else for a part of your factory pilgrimage?"
"No, indeed, sir."
"I am sorry, but I guess that is what I shall have to do," declared Mr. Croyden. "You can make a start, and later in the morning I will try to join you myself."
He touched a bell.
"Send Marwood to me," he said to the boy.
"Mr. Marwood is a splendidly informed man, Theo; and more than that, he is a delightful one. You will enjoy him, and I have a notion he will enjoy you. He likes boys—has three of his own, lucky fellow! Ah, here he comes now. Mr. Marwood, this is my young friend, Theo Swift of New York."