His father reddened and looked down. "That has been charged off," he said. "Not charged to you."
He rang for Ellen and Jay recognized the signal that he would take up his own work.
"It ought to be charged to selling," said Jay, in spite of Ellen's presence in the room, "for it sold Metten. We got a two-weeks order out of it, anyway. Ask Lowry."
His father looked up at him.
"I know I've got to start, father; but I've already begun. I want to go on and land the rest of that Metten account. I'll never land it in the stockroom."
"How shall I put you on the payroll?" his father demanded. "As a golf player? Shall I put on your wife, too?"
Jay went fiery red. "Not my wife," he said.
"Why not? She seems to have done as much as you." And he turned to Ellen and gave her directions.
Jay waited in the room, apparently looking at the newspaper but listening and attending. He caught a change in his father's voice since, months ago, he had lingered thus in the office with business going on. His father's certainty of himself, reasserted positively enough when he was stirred to personal argument, was lacking; a confidence was gone. It bothered Jay to feel it; finally he arose and went into the general offices, to return after his father passed on the way to the plant.
"What happened to him down at Stanley?" he demanded of Ellen.
"He just managed to bring back the business," said Ellen frankly.
