“Just draw up your chair,” said Oakley, handing his papers to him. At first Holt did not understand; then he began to whistle softly, and fell to checking off the various cuts with his forefinger.
“What do you think of the job, Byron?” inquired Oakley.
“Well, I'm glad I don't get laid off, that's sure. Say, just bear in mind that I'm going to be married this summer.”
“You needn't worry; only I didn't know that.”
“Well, please don't forget it, Mr. Oakley.”
Holt ran over the cuts again. Then he asked:
“Who's going to stand for this? You or the old man? I hear he was in town last night.”
“I stand for it, but of course he approves.”
“I'll bet he approves,” and the assistant treasurer grinned. “This is the sort of thing that suits him right down to the ground.”
“How about the hands? Do you know if they are members of any union?”