The Bridgeport evening farmer., 1912-08-30

(copyrighted 1911
 smart young men from all of your schools. make
 a rule of taking but one in hundred, and you're
 number two. Try again-a little further down the
 line-and you may be the hundredth one-At any
 rate, wish you luck"
 He reached out aabby hand mechanically, gave
 the boy from Tech. quick shake and then, prompt
 ly forgetting him, deved among the of papers
 on his desk. The interview was closed.
 Craig Gordon bit his tongue This vas
 well, 1t was bit different from what he had antici- nated. He lad not calculated on the combined out put from all of the technical schools Very few young graduates do He looked down from the vice-presidents window into. the dirty yard of the bridge plant. It was a horrible place An upturned comb of iron stacks rising from the ridge of the nearest shed poured down sooty spray of clnders upon everything about upon the open spaces, and upon the bent figures of who toiied like beasts under and out of 1t. The glare ot opened furnaces sent uncanny lights and shadows through the hot and grimy place. It was horrible and it like earthly paradise to boy who was steeped in theory and hungrily wanted roll up sleeves and plunge into action. The sitting the big desk looked up and caught sight of young Gordon.
 What, you here still? told you
 But before he was done resolve had formed itself within Craig Gordons soul. It took nerve and per haps this MT. Minor would end by sending for pOl1ce--or by taking the law into ms own nandS.
 "T know" said Craig Gordon, you said I was min ety-eight degrees removed 'f
 And that ended it Good-day. I'm busy man." said Orvie Minor.
 The figure by the window did not move, 1
 T like to look down into the yard, it saida Gan I stand here awhile?"
 "Yon can stand there asslong you damn please" said Orville Minor.
 An hour later Minor looked toward the window. The young still stood there.
 Well, how long? demanded the vice-prcsident.
 Till I've moved up the ninety-eght degrees"
 Then you'll drop in your tracks" said Orv1e Minor.
 That's my lookout the young mans reply. : Another hour passed-two hours-three hours. The vice president went to his lunch, took his time over it. When he came back the figure was still at the window. The long June afternoon dragged itself out Minor finally pulled his desk shut=he was off for the open country to play round with Adrienne Coutant. He looked sharply over to the window, than half expecting that his caller gone He drowned then broke into grin, for the boy still there.
 Well Mr.. Gordon" he said. "Were locking up for the night
 You told me-" said the boy from Tech, "that could stay here long damn pleased"
 You can't" snapped Orve Minor, flor I'm your boss now. You are to report to Shop IA at seven o'clock to-rnorrow morning to take your turn upon d before the summer is through. All you college boys do But it's yours-to-morrow and not any other day. No getting home to fix up'
 'I'll answer the whistle tomorrow said Craig Gordon.
 So it that the boy from Tech came to Inter national Bridge at the beginning of the hottest sum- mer that Fremont has ever known He started at the bottom and then he began to rise in that smoky dirty place, as straight bubble rose to the surface of roi1y water
 Pat Cullen said: He is good workman even if he is Scotch"
 Old Pat was the foreman of the Fourteen shop and one who judged neither nor things hastily
 Orville Minor began to look with favor upon Craig Gordon-that certainly was nice boy who had to them out of Tech. He had none but good reports of Gordon; within six months he was standing old Pat Culen's assistant. Orvil1e Mil nor did more than merely look with favor upon young Gordon-he,w was taking him up socially in a town that too friendly to strangers Mil nor proud of his own social prowess; he was glad to have big houses open their doors that his protege might see how big man in every way was his boss. He took him to house after another and finally he took him to Adrenne And when the boy from Tech. had entered the dim1y lighted paror of the big, old-fashoned house on the very crest of Fremont Heights, where girl in white sat upon long sofa-then Craig Gordon had passed within the very gates of Paradise.
 For a time young Gordon hesitated--rumor had been whispering in his ears. Now, mind you, there was engagement, no photographs in the news papers no geaning stone held proudly upon slim finger; but had slipped into the gaudy draw ing-roems, had crept unobservcd into the shady re- cesses of the clubs, and run1or had said that the clever vice-president of International Bridge was going to take Adrienne Coutant to be his wife Mil nor had never said that Craig Gordon thanked God that Minor had said it, and still he hesitated Paradise seemed unreal
 Adrienne did not hesitate She liked the boy--in some ways quite much Milnor-and she showered dozens of little favors upon him. And in the boy from Tech. took hope and inspiration into his work-that lifted him to higher levels in high that Orvie Minor took sharp notice of him. Minors eyes saw much. Gradually he began neglect his protege socially. He no longer took him around to smart clubs asked him to his own luxurious apartments I1 fact he might have dropped Craig Gordon. but that would not have been