Mr. Watling laughed. "They always do," he observed, "and waste a lot of
valuable time. You'll find some light cigars in the corner, Hugh."

I sat down beside him and we spent the morning going over the details of
the Ribblevale suit, Mr. Watling delegating to me certain matters
connected with it of a kind with which I had not hitherto been entrusted;
and he spoke again, before I left, of his intention of taking me into the
firm as soon as the affair could be arranged. Walking homeward, with my
mind intent upon things to come, I met my mother at the corner of Lyme
Street coming from church. Her face lighted up at sight of me.

"Have you been working to-day, Hugh?" she asked.

I explained that I had spent the morning with Mr. Watling.

"I'll tell you a secret, mother. I'm going to be taken into the firm."

"Oh, my dear, I'm so glad!" she exclaimed. "I often think, if only your
father were alive, how happy he would be, and how proud of you. I wish he
could know. Perhaps he does know."

Theodore Watling had once said to me that the man who can best keep his
own counsel is the best counsel for other men to keep. I did not go about
boasting of the part I had played in originating the now famous Bill No.
709, the passage of which had brought about the capitulation of the
Ribblevale Steel Company to our clients. But Ralph Hambleton knew of it,
of course.

"That was a pretty good thing you pulled off, Hughie," he said. "I didn't
think you had it in you."