“Of course, the equipment can hardly be called modern, but it will do for the sort of work for which I am bidding,” Oakley explained.
“Well, it will be an interesting problem for a young man, Oakley. If you pull the property up it will be greatly to your credit. I was going to offer you another position, but we will let that go over for the present. I am very much pleased, though, with all you have done, very much pleased, indeed. I go abroad in about two weeks. My youngest daughter is to be married in London to the Earl of Minchester.”
The title rolled glibly from the great man's lips. “So you'll have the fight, if it is a fight, all to yourself. I'll see that Holloway does what you say. He's the only one you'll have to look to in my absence, but you won't be able to count on him for anything; he gets limp in a crisis. Just don't make the mistake of asking his advice.”
“I'd rather have no advice,” interrupted Dan, hastily, “unless it's yours,” he added.
“I'll see that you are not bothered. You are the sort of fellow who will do better with a free hand, and that is what I intend you shall have.”
“Thank you,” said Oakley, his heart warming with the other's praise.
“I shall be back in three months, and then, if your schemes have worked out at all as we expect, why, we can consider putting the property in better shape.”—A part of Oakley's plan.—“As you say, it's gone down so there won't be much but the right of way presently.”
“I hope that eventually there'll be profits,” said Oakley, whose mind was beginning to reach out into the future.
“I guess the stockholders will drop dead if we ever earn a dividend. That's the last thing they are looking forward to,” remarked Cornish, dryly. “Will you leave a six-thirty call at the office for me? I forgot, and I must take the first train.”
Oakley had gathered up his order-book and papers. The general was already fumbling with his cravat and collar.