"Well, you're twenty-one. Why don't you open an office of your own? Your mother's got plenty of money. She can buy you a library and a sign, and that is all a young lawyer needs in Chicago."
"Mother wants me to run for alderman in our ward, next spring. I'll be able to vote at that election."
"You've got as much right in the council as some others, I suppose."
"Sure, mother owns property. The West Side ought to be as well represented as the North Side. Property interests is what we need in the council. That's—"
"I don't care to hear a political speech, boy. Are you busy this afternoon?"
"No. I wouldn't be here if I was."
"Then get up there and hand those books down to me. Nobody loafs in this office to-day."
"Well, doggone, if that isn't the limit! All right. Don't get mad. I'll do it." The young gentleman leisurely ascended to the top of the stepladder and fell into line under the lash.
"Young Mr. Graydon Bansemer will be here this afternoon," said Droom. "I want to get things cleaned up a bit beforehand."
"How does he feel about his father?"