"You will have to apply as I have just suggested. You cannot see the president," announced the secretary shortly, turning on his heel and reëntering his own office.
"Yah, yah!" jeered the office boy. "Now, Mr. Smarty, will you get out or shall I put you out?"
"Neither."
"What's that?"
"You will not put me out, and I propose to remain here until I get a chance to see your employer," announced Steve in a low, firm tone. He calmly seated himself on a bench just outside the door of the office reception room.
The office boy's eyes narrowed angrily. He took a step toward Rush, then, apparently thinking better of it, strode back to his little square desk and threw himself into a chair, where he sat glowering at the calm-eyed boy out in the corridor.
Steve sat gazing steadily at the door of a room on which was written the word "President." Now and then he caught sight of a shadow within, through the ground-glass partition, and now and again the sound of voices reached him.
"Are you going to move?" demanded a voice at his side.
Steve glanced up, finding the office boy standing close to him, a threatening scowl on his face.