hand, "but—Junior came in, and—and I forgot everything and rushed to you."
"You old dear!" she cried enthusiastically and threw her arms about him. "That shows I was right to come home. You do love me more than your old factory, don't you?"
"Don't I? I always did," insisted George.
"But what can you do then—about the factory plane" Fay inquired, perplexed and feeling that a very real calamity had happened.
"More hell-paving!" ejaculated George with a rueful smile. "By now I'm ousted, and although we still hold the majority stock, we couldn't vote it till the next annual meeting. Tell you," he said. "You were always wanting me to take a vacation. I'll take a vacation for a year, and we'll get acquainted all over again."
"Won't that be thrilling!" cried Fay, "but—" eagerly—"We won't idle, George, on our vacation. We'll go to Europe and work for Mr. Hoover's commission, or we'll settle right down here in Detroit and do something that ought to be done and never has been done before—or—Just a minute, dear! There's the telephone."
She stepped to the extension instrument with an expression of annoyance clouding her features, for this was no time for talk with any outsider, but as she held the receiver to her ear, her face gradually underwent a radiant change.
