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Rh "Sit down, Jim," he said. The tone was not harsh, but lacked cordiality.

Jim sat down.

"How are you, sir?"

"Pretty bad. I don't seem to find any relief."

Once Jim had wickedly suggested that he take his own rheumatism cure; but the remark had led to all their trouble, so he twirled his hat and answered perfunctorily:

"I'm sorry, sir."

Such mildness of demeanor ought to have placated the father. But Everton was eyeing his son suspiciously.

"They tell me you're working. A lawyer's clerk."

"I'm Mr. Jarrod's private secretary, sir."

"Huh! Good job for a college man, is n't it? Nice investment I made when I sent you to Cornell."

Jim wondered what he would say if he knew he had until recently been a dry-goods clerk.