It was some years since Von Barwig had tried to dispose of his compositions and he made the rounds of the various music publishers with as little success as usual. "There is no demand for my music," he thought, and he went into a fashionable music emporium, as a last hope.
The clerks at Schumein's recognised him in a moment; his was a face one could not forget. Mr. Schumein, the head of the firm, could not see him; he was busy.
"I will wait," said Von Barwig, and he sat down.
"I'm afraid he'll be busy all the afternoon," said the clerk apprehensively.
"I can wait all the afternoon, if necessary," said Von Barwig. He was tired and was glad to sit down.
"Suppose you leave your songs here and I'll hand them to our reader," suggested the clerk, after Von Barwig had been waiting over two hours.
"They won't see me," thought Von Barwig, "I can no longer obtain an interview. I am not worth seeing," and he smiled to himself as he thought of the days when people used to wait for hours to see him. "Well," he spoke aloud, "I will leave them; and to-morrow I will call for the answer."
"Better leave it till next week; our reader is very busy," said the clerk, a little impatiently.
"I will call again next week," said Von Barwig patiently.
"What's your address?" asked the clerk.