“When’ll he be here?” says Mark.
“Maybe ten o’clock,” says a man that was working outside the president’s door.
“Ten,” says Mark, “um!... And how long does he stay?”
“Oh, he’ll be around maybe till one, and then he gets lunch and you can’t tell how long he’ll be out. Then he goes home mostly about three or half past.”
“Goodness!” says Mark to me. “I hain’t goin’ to be any f-f-freight man. I’m goin’ to be a p-p-president. Looks like he only works three hours, and maybe he gets p-paid three or four thousand dollars for it. Why, any feller could have three jobs like that, workin’ one right on the end of the other, and doin’ nine hours’ work a day! I could git rich doin’ that.”
So we waited some more, and after a while in come a slender man with white hair and a cane, all dressed up like he was going to a party instead of coming to work. Everybody acted like they was afraid of him when he came in, and pertended to be mighty busy. He didn’t speak to anybody, but just marched through into his own room and scowled like anything. He looked like he was a regular man-eater.
“Was that him?” says Mark.
“Yes.”
“Well, will you tell him that I want to t-t-talk to him?”
“Who are you and what do you want?”