His delight was great, therefore, when at the end of a long day, after he had turned in his schedule to his chief, the latter said: 

“Noble, your work is good.  Johnson is faster.  Up to last night he had turned in one, decimal five-two per cent more establishments than you, but your proportion of capital invested is larger, showing that the works you went to took more time.  Your schedules are better.  This takes a little over one-fifth more of my own time than I had figured at first.  I was going to do the Winchester works myself.  I think you can do it.  You had better go ahead.  It’s complicated, but they’ll help you all they can.  There’s not much time left.”

“Very well, Mr. Burns,” said Hamilton decisively with the characteristic raising and lowering of his eyebrows, “I’ll get all there is, all right.”

The next morning, about ten o’clock, Hamilton presented himself at the general offices of the company on the outskirts of the town, about a mile from the college.  He asked to see the business manager, and was granted an interview.

“Mr. Arverne,” said the boy, “I called with regard to securing the figures for the census of nineteen hundred and ten.”

“But you are not the special agent surely?” said the manager, looking at him sharply.

“No, sir,” the boy answered, “Mr. Burns is the special agent, and I am one of his assistants.”

“I should have thought Mr. Burns would have come himself,” the man said; “you are young for this work, aren’t you?”

Hamilton flushed at this reference to his boyish appearance, but he answered steadily:  “Yes, sir, I believe I am younger than most of the assistant special agents, but I have had a good deal to do with figures.”

“Burns is a good man,” the manager continued.  “If the government has men of that stamp all over the country, the statistics will be invaluable.  You know Mr. Burns?” he added suddenly.

“Only just since this work began, Mr. Arverne,” the boy replied.

“Queer chap.  I don’t believe he eats a bit of food or drinks a glass of water without mentally figuring the nutritious percentage in the food, and the effect of his drink upon the water supply of the world.”

Hamilton laughed.

“He is a little that way, sir,” he said.

“A little!” the manager exclaimed.  “But to return to the point.  You didn’t tell me why Mr. Burns didn’t come himself.”

“He said that the office work was piling up, sir,” answered the boy, “and—­if you don’t mind my saying so, Mr. Arverne—­he spoke of it as an opportunity for me, since it was the largest plant in the city and my schedules had been the most complete of those turned in to him.”

The manager eyed the boy keenly.

“Mr. Burns doesn’t make many mistakes,” he said, after a moment, “and if he has confidence in you, he knows what he is talking about.  This is a country of young men anyway, and it seems to be getting younger all the time.  Where is the schedule?”