"I noticed it, Sam. Did he say anything to you about business?"
"Not a word. Why, do you think it's that?"
"There is some trouble out west—has been ever since there was a strike at that Golden Horseshoe mine in which dad invested so heavily last summer. They had a strike, and now one crowd is trying to get the control from another crowd. I don't know the particulars, but I guess dad is worried."
"Dick, don't you think you ought to help him in these affairs?" came suddenly from Sam. "Uncle Randolph is too absorbed in his books and in scientific farming to pay any attention, and—well, dad isn't as young as he used to be—and we are growing older."
"I've been thinking of that, Sam. I wish I was through college, I'd jump right into the game and try to take the load from his shoulders."
"Are you going to take the full course?"
"No, I talked it over with dad last week and I'm going to take the shorter course. He said you two could take the long course if you wanted to."
"Not much! The short course for yours truly!" cried Tom.
"Ditto here!" came from Sam.
"I want to settle down and get into business," went on Tom.
