He strode toward the door, the son following, acute to the grins and winks the workmen were exchanging behind his back.

The father opened the shut street door of the cooperage, and, when the son came up, pointed to the big, white letters: "No Admittance.

Apply at the Office." "How did you get in here ?" he asked.
"I called in at the window and ordered one of the men to open the door," explained the son.
"Ordered." The father merely repeated the word.
"Requested, then," said the son, feeling that he was displaying praiseworthy patience with "the governor's" eccentricities.
"Which workman ?" The son indicated a man who was taking a dinner pail from under a bench at the nearest window.

The father called to him: "Jerry!" Jerry came quickly.
"Why did you let this young--young _gentleman_ in among us ?" "I saw it was Mr.Arthur," began Jerry.
"Then you saw it was not anyone who has any business here.

Who gave you authority to suspend the rules of this factory ?" "Don't, father!" protested Arthur.