He sat down at his new desk, put the unpaid bill for same in a drawer, and confronted them.
"Eight of you can go," he observed, and waited.
Each man cast a glance of pity at his neighbor.
"Don't be so modest," H. R. told them, kindly.
"You said first-class men?" politely inquired a young man, smooth-shaven, blond, blue-eyed, and very clean-looking.
"Yes," answered H. R.
"That's what I understood," said the young man, extending his hand. "Barrett's my name."
H. R. ignored the outstretched hand and stared at the clean-looking young man.
On the faces of eleven Christian gentlemen came a fraternal look of self-conscious modesty. But young Mr. Barrett, unabashed, said, cheerily:
"Keep on looking. I know you want me. When you discover it, we'll do business."