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AGE VS. YOUTH
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By Roy Mason
THE air was electric with excitement in the office of John Norton & Co., Bankers and Brokers. The heir to the business was clue to arrive that day. It was just a month since the revered and beloved head of the firm had passed away. Old John Norton was a man who deserved and inspired confidence. The heads of many of his office staff had grown grey in loyal service. Three of them, James Blake, old Norton's confidential clerk, Henry Wilson and William Burke, all of them with silver hair, sat pretending to work at their desks in the great outer office. But their attitudes were tense and nervous, and their attention to the papers before them frequently relaxed, or was interrupted by a snatch of conversation.
"He'll be back to-day," said Wilson in one of these pauses.
"He's due here now," Burke added, gloomily.
"What are you two worrying about ?" inquired Blake. "Mr. Norton said to me a few days before he died: 'My boy Jack is going to carry on the business. And he'll take care of the men who helped me to make it a success.' What more can you ask?"
The door was flung open, as if in answer to his words. Young Jack Norton strode in briskly, followed by three of his college mates and boon companions. If he was saddened by the loss of his aged father, his manner certainly did not betray it.
"Mr. Blake," he said abruptly, without any preliminary greeting, "I presume that you have the papers in that traction loan that was pending before father's death."
"Yes, Mr. Norton," replied the grey
haired senior clerk, flushing at the peremptory tone. "I thought it best to hold that matter up until your return. There should be some serious consultations — "
"Consultations ? Consultations !"
Jack Norton interrupted angrily. "We're going to cut out the consultations and do some real business. They're not going to call this an oldfogy firm any more, now that I'm running it. Step this way, please."
The older man's face was flushed as he approached his young employer.
"Here is a month's salary, and you can say a permanent good-bye to this office. You must be tired of it by this time, anyway."
James Blake's countenance turned from red to ash-grey.
"You can't mean, sir," he faltered, "You "
"Mr. Wilson/' called young Norton, ignoring Blake's unfinished question.
Wilson's knees were trembling beneath him as he approached. Young Norton handed him a month's salary with the same curt dismissal. Burke had already approached a;, if in support of his comrades of many years.
"I see that you're wise to what's coming," said young Norton with a sneer, partly to cover his real embarrassment. "Here's a month's salary, and a permanent ticket of leave for vou. too."
"Jack Norton," said Blake in a husky voice, "this is an outrage that your father would not tolerate, to discharge without cause three old men who "
"That's just the point," interrupted young Norton. "You are three old men. I'm bringing in some younger
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