"Of course I've been here all my life--if that counts for anything--and I am now serving in the more or less humble capacity of vice-president--but if the judge would like to throw up his law business and try the manufacturing end instead--" "No," smiled the judge, lighting a bombshell--though Uncle Stanley little guessed it--"I think the position calls for some one younger than I am.
Besides, my name is Cutler, whereas for eight generations this concern has been headed by a Spencer.
"You know, Mr.Woodward, lawyers are sticklers for precedent, and it seems to me that as long as there is a Spencer left in the family, that good old name should stand at the head.
"For the office of president I therefore cast my vote in favour of the last of the Spencers--Miss Mary--" That was the bombshell, and oh, but didn't it rock Uncle Stanley back on his heels! "Of course, if you want to make a joke of the company," he said at last, sticking out his lower lip till it made a little shelf, although it wasn't a very steady little shelf because it trembled as though from emotion.

"'President, Mary Spencer'-- you know as well as I do what people will think when they see that on the letterhead--" "Unfortunately, yes," said the judge, flashing him one of his hawk's glances but still speaking in his gentle voice.

"Still, we can easily get around that difficulty.

We can have the letter-heads lithographed 'President, M.Spencer.' Then if our correspondents have imaginations, they will think that the M stands for Matthew or Mark or Michael or Malachi.

One thing sure," he smiled at the new president, "they'll never think of Mary." As in the case of the factory, Uncle Stanley had also been vice-president of the First National Bank.