All day long, at his office, he smiled, beamed, chuckled and spoke genially to his employees and to visitors until they became honestly concerned over the state of his mind, if not of his body."Old Fireball's not himself," said the second assistant secretary with a shake of his head to the third assistant freight manager. "I left out a not in a contract, and it'll cost the firm five thousand dollars. I expected to have my scalp lifted; but the old man just beamed—beamed, mind you—patted me on the shoulder, and said everyone makes mistakes. Do you think," he asked anxiously, "that he's getting soft in the head?""He did the same to me," nodded the third assistant freight manager. "I got two important shipments mixed up, and the old codger just laughed it off. It must be senility setting in."They both contemplated the situation with expressions of gloom. "Who'd have thought it!" they sighed simultaneously.But Simeon, in his private sanctum, was completely unaware of the deleterious effects his revolutionary good nature had on the morale of his subordinates.
