Those conferences were great cauldrons into
which the day's business, or the week's, was dumped, to be boiled,
simmered, stirred, skimmed, cooled. Jock had never been privileged
to attend one of these meetings. Perhaps by this time next week he
might have a spoon in the stirring too--
There came the murmur of voices as a door was opened. The voices
came nearer. Then quick footsteps. Jock recognized them. He rose,
smiling. Sam Hupp, vibrating electric energy, breezed in.
"Oh--hello!" he said, surprised. Jock's smile widened to a grin.
"You back?"
"Hello, Hupp," he said, coolly. It was the first time that he had
omitted the prefix. "You just bet I'm back."
There flashed across Sam Hupp's face a curious little look. The
next instant it was gone.
"Well," said Jock, and took a long breath.
"Mr. Berg wants to see you."
Hupp plunged into his work.
"Me? The Old Man wants to see me?"
"Yes," snapped Hupp shortly. Then, in a new tone, "Look here, son.
If he says--" He stopped, and turned back to his work again.
"If he says what?"
"Nothing. Better run along."
"What's the hurry? I want to tell you about--"
"Better tell him."
"Oh, all right," said Jock stiffly. If that was the way they
treated a fellow who had turned his first real trick, why, very
well.
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