NOVEMBER JOE
"Will you write out an answer for me?" asked Joe.
I nodded. Joe is slow with the pen.
"'Miss Eileen M. East.' Please put that, sir, and then 'arriving on 3.38,' and sign."
"How shall I sign it?" said I.
"Just write 'November.'"
I did so, and ringing again for the clerk I directed him to give the telegram to the boy who was waiting. There was a moment's silence, then—
"Can you come along, Mr. Quaritch?"
I looked at the business which had accumulated on my desk, for, as I have had occasion to observe more than once, I am a very busy man, indeed, or, at least, I ought to be, for my interests, as were those of my father and grandfather, are bound up with the development of the Dominion of Canada and range through the vegetable and mineral kingdoms to water-power and the lighting of many of our greatest cities.
"Yes, but I must have ten minutes in which to give Witherspoon his instructions."
Joe went to the door. "The boss wants you right away, old man," I heard him say.
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