He sat down in his desk chair, but she did not avail herself of the permission his half-hearted nod toward another chair accorded her; remained standing across the table from him.
"I came to Centropolis day before yesterday," said Rose, "with a theatrical company that failed. They went away this morning unpaid, with nothing but tickets to Chicago. I decided to stay here and try to get work. I applied for it at five places on Main Street this morning, and then went to Mr. Culver at the hotel. I asked him for a position as a waitress."
Already the judge was tapping his pencil.
"This doesn't concern me in the least," he said. "I have no possible employment for you. I can do nothing for you. Good day!"
"Employment isn't what I want from you," said Rose. "I'll come to what I do want in a minute."
It is safe to say that the judge hadn't been caught up with a round turn like that in years. He stared at her now in perfectly blank amazement.
"Mr. Culver," she went on, "told me why I hadn't been successful. He accused me of being the sort of person no decent employer would give work to, of being a person of bad character. I convinced him, I think, that I was not. Then he said that even though I were a perfectly honest, decent woman, he wouldn't dare put me in his dining-room. He cited you as the reason."
At that the judge suddenly went purple.
"Me!" he shouted.
The tension of Rose's body relaxed a little. A smile flickered just instantaneously over her mouth.