process is an open secret anyway, except perhaps--Oh, I guess it would be all right." Bob regarded his father with a puzzled stare. "I will arrange for you and Van to go through the works right away," continued Mr. Carlton. "It simply will be necessary for me to telephone the superintendent and tell him you are coming so he will have some one on hand to explain things to you. This was your scheme, you say?" "Yes, sir. Why?" "Nothing, nothing," was Mr. Carlton's enigmatic reply. He was as good as his word, for despite his peculiar reluctance in the matter he lost no time in perfecting the plan, and the next morning after the party reached New York he informed the boys that the motor-car would be at the door at nine o'clock to take them to the refinery. Bob and Van, to whom New York was more or less of an old story, hailed this announcement with pleasure and promptly stowed themselves away in the big limousine which was to whirl them to Long Island where the works were located. All the way out Van was singularly silent, and appeared to be turning something over in his mind; once he started to speak, but checked himself abruptly. Bob watched him uneasily. "I believe you've lost your enthusiasm about sugar," said he at last, "and did not really want to come." "What a notion! Of course I wanted to come." "But you seem so glum, old man." "Glum! Nonsense! I never was in better spirits in my life." With a sudden shifting of the subject Van pointed to a stack of chimneys cleaving the sky and observed: "I wonder if those belong to your father's plant?" "I fancy they do," was Bob's quick answer. "Dad said we'd see a bunch of tall chimneys, and that the refinery was of yellow brick." "Then this is the place," Van declared, drumming on the window glass with forced gaiety. He did not, however, leap from the car with the spring of