His private office, too, was of the simplest type, being neatly but
not lavishly furnished. Evidently what was good enough for his men was
good enough for him. There were, however, in the two great windows
several boxes of blossoming plants which made the room fragrant.
"I am very fond of flowers, Theo," explained the mill-owner after he
had greeted his office force and introduced his guest. "It is my weak
spot--my one big extravagance. This room has just the exposure for
plants and we keep the boxes filled the year round. The boys have
nicknamed the place _the conservatory_ and the jest has stuck until
nobody thinks of calling the place anything else. If you were to ask a
man to come to the office he would have to scratch his head and think;
but if you told him he was wanted in the conservatory he would land
here double quick. Isn't that so?" concluded Mr. Croyden, turning to
the others.
Every one smiled and nodded.
Mr. Croyden hung up his hat and motioning Theo to do the same turned
to encounter a pile of mail that lay on his desk.
"Bless my soul, this is too bad!" he exclaimed. "Don't tell me that
to-day when I had planned to make a tour through the factory Uncle Sam
has come down on me with all this stuff!"
He glanced ruefully at the letter lying topmost on the heap; then at
the second one.
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