The Washington herald., 1915-09-12
W.--THE MAN WITHIN HIM.

| as she gazed there came a frightened
look into her eyes. 1t was gone in
a minute, and in its place came a curl
Gus little gleam, half amused. half
pugnacious.
| Jock McChesney, II I thought that
you meant half Of what you've said
, tonight about honor. and ethics. and
all that. I'd"
| Spank me. I suppose" said the
young siX-footer.
| NO" and all the humor had hed.
'T-Jock, I've never said much to you
about your father. But I think you
| know that he was what he was to
the day of his death. You were just
about eight when I made up my mind
that life with him was impossible. I
| said then-and you were all I had,
son-that I'd rather see you dead than
to have you turn out to be a son of
your father. Don't make me remem-
ber that wish, Jock"
| Two quick steps and his arms were
about her His face was all contrition.
| "Why-Mother, 1 didn't mean You
see this is business. and I'm crazy
| to make good, and it's such a fight"
Don't I know it," demanded Emma
McChesney. Il guess your mother
thasn't been sitting homo embroidering
lunchcloths these last fifteen years"
She lifted her head from the boys
shoulder. And now. son. considering
me. NOT as your doting mother. but
in my business capacity as secretary
of the T. A. Buck Featherloom Petit
coat Company. suppose you reveal to
me the inner workings of this plan
of yours. I'd like to know II you really
are the advertising wizard that you
think you are"
So it was that long after Annie's
dinner dishes had ceased to clatter in
the kitchen; long after she had put
her head in at the door to ask. "Aigs'r
cakes for breakfast" long after those
two busy brains should have rested
in sleep, the two sat at either side Of
the light-nooded table. the face of one
glowing as he talked. the face of the
other sparkling as she listened. And
at midnight:
why. you infant wonder" exclaim-
ed Emma MoChesney.
At nine o'clock next morning when
Jock McChesney entered the offices Of
the Berg. Shriner Advertising Com
lpany he carried a nat. compact bundle
of papers under his arm encased in
protecting covers of pasteboard, and
further secured by bands Of elastic.
This he carried to his desk, deposited
in a drawer, and locked the drawer.
By eleven o'clock the things which
he had predicted the night before had
come to pass. A plump little man, with
ifussy manner and Western clothes had
been ushered into Bartholomew Berg's
private office. Instinct told him that
this was Griebler Jock left his desk
and strolled up to get the switchboard
operators confirmation Of his guess.
Half an hour later Sam Hupp hustled
by and disappeared into the Old Mans
sanctum.
Jock fingered the upper left-hand
drawer of his desk. The maddening
blankness of that closed door! If only
he could find some excuse for walking
into that room-any old excuse. no
matter how wild.-just to get a chance
at it
His telephone rang. He picked up
the receiver. his eye on the closed
door. his thoughts inside that room.
away" came the voice of the switch
board operator.
Something seemed to give way in
side-something in the region Of his
brain-no. his heart-no, his lungs
We'll. can you beat that" said Jock
McChesney aloud. in a kind of trance
of joy. "Can-you-beat-tha
Then he buttoned the lower button
of his coat. shrugged his shoulders
with an extra wriggle at the collar
(the modern hero's method Of girding
up his loins), and walked calmly into
Bartholomew Berg's very private Of
flee.
In the second that elapsed between
the opening and the closing OF the
; door Jocks glance swept the three
men-Bartholomew Berg. quiet. in
scrutable, seated at his great table,
desk; Griebler, lost in tho depths OF
a great leather chair. smoking fussily
e. and twitching with a hundred little
restless. irritating gestures; Sam
Hupp, standing at the opposite side OF
the room. hands in pockets. attitude
argumentative.
This is Mr. McChesney." said Bar
tholomew Berg. Mr.. Griebler. NC
Chesney."
Jock came forward. smiling that
: charming smile of his. 'Mr. Grfebler,
: he said. extending his hand. this Is
: a great pleasure"
= Him. growled Ben Griebler. I
didn't know they picked EN- SO
young"
His voice was a piping falsetto that
somehow seemed to match his restless
little eyes.
Jock thrust his hands hurriedly into
his pockets. He felt his face getting
scarlet.
"They're-ah-using 'em young this
: year." said Bartholomew Berg. HIS
voice sounded bigger. and smoother,
and pleasanter than ever in contrast
S with that others shrill tone. II pre-
S fer 'em young. myself. You'll never
catch McChesney using in the last an
: alysis' to drive home an argument he
has a new idea about every nineteen
: minutes, and every other ones good
. one, and every nineteenth or SOS an
4 inspiration" The Old Man laughed one
fof his low, chuckling laughs.
"Him-that sog' piped Ben Creoier.
. up in my neck Of the woods We aren
! SO long on inspiration. were Just