"Thursday is all right. What hour? Ten o'clock do?"
"Yes, yes, that will do," sighed the busy, busy business man, his nose deep in his work.
Socratic turned on his heel and walked out.
THE HEAD CLERK'S SALARY
Thursday morning he was again beside Brainerd's desk. It was easy to see that this little buzz-fly was a mile up in the air. Hi$ coat was off, his cuffs turned back, his collar unbuttoned, his hair mussed, and he had a streak of soot across his nose. He hardly looked up. Just kept chugging away like a motor-cycle going up-grade at fifty miles an hour.
Oh, but he was the busy man!
"Sorry to disappoint you again, Socratic," he jerked out,
"but I haven't got time to breathe. You'll have to come in again."
"Making stacks of money with all this strenuous activity, I suppose?" asked Socratic.
"Oh, no! It keeps me on the jump like a toad under a harrow to pay expenses."