Stephen Sanford had not disappointed Gorham in the attitude he took when he first learned that Allen had been given a position with the Consolidated Companies.  The letter which he wrote to his old friend contained accusations of the basest treachery which one man could show toward another:  Gorham had deliberately planned to separate father and son; he had discovered the boy’s rare business qualifications and taken advantage of them for his own personal ends.  The act was in keeping with the basis upon which his whole company was founded.  Gorham’s good-nature was taxed to its utmost, but he fully realized how deeply his old friend was wounded; and the knowledge that his own interest in Allen was in reality a genuine service to Sanford himself served to blunt the force of the attack.

Allen, oblivious to everything except the present opportunity to prove himself to Alice and to be near Alice, plunged ahead until Gorham was forced to change his words of caution into actual commands.

“You are trying to put the head of the wedge in first, my boy,” the older man told him.  “You are using twenty pounds of steam to do the work of two, and that does no credit to your judgment.”

Covington was negatively antagonistic from the start in that quiet, skilful way which kept his animosity from any specific expression.  Allen felt it, and reciprocated the feeling with an intensity not lessened by the knowledge that Covington and Alice were thrown together almost daily by this business arrangement which seemed to him the height of absurdity.  He did not approve of the business manners which the girl delighted to assume with him when they chanced to meet, and he watched for an opportunity to tell her so.

As the opportunity seemed slow in coming, with characteristic energy he made one to order.  Gorham required some important papers which he had left at his house the night before, and the boy so arranged his arrival that he had the pleasure of seeing Covington depart, although he himself was unobserved.  He found Alice deep in the mysterious detail of her growing responsibility, but not at all disturbed to be discovered at her work.  The desk which had been placed in her father’s library was as near a duplicate of his in reduced size as could be found.  A bunch of letters covered one end of it, while a neatly arranged pile of checks directly in front of her showed that the contents of her mail had proved profitable.  She told Riley to bring Allen here, and the boy stood regarding her for a moment before she looked up.

“Don’t let me disturb you, Miss—­Manager,” he said, loftily, as he caught her eye.  “We magnates become peeved by interruptions—­I always do myself.”

Alice laughed as Allen unlocked the drawer in Gorham’s desk and placed the desired papers in his pocket.

“Isn’t it fun?” she asked, merrily.

“Isn’t what fun?” was the unresponsive reply.  “I haven’t burst any buttons off my waistcoat watching you and Mr. Covington do the turtle-dove act while I drag out a tabloid existence in a two by twice hall bedroom, and stay tied down to my desk all day.  Where does the fun come in?”