Seeing Brad and Dan, the receptionist regarded them with cold disapproval.
“I told you over the telephone that Mr. Silverton will not see you,” she said before Brad could speak. “Those are his orders.”
“But we must see him!” Brad insisted. “Rains have flooded the creek and some of the pheasants may drown if they aren’t taken care of right away!”
The receptionist looked somewhat startled. Having no idea what the boys were talking about, she shook her head.
“I positively cannot disturb Mr. Silverton now,” she said. “If you want to wait on the chance he’ll see you when he comes out, you may.”
“How long will that be?” Dan asked.
“Mr. Silverton usually leaves his office at four-thirty.”
“That’s fifteen minutes yet,” Brad said, glancing anxiously at the wall clock. “We shouldn’t delay. Please—”
“I’ve already explained that I cannot disturb Mr. Silverton. Now if you don’t mind, I have work to do.”
The receptionist busied herself typing a letter. However, the boys saw her gaze with disapproval at the enlarging pool of water which dripped from their slickers onto the floor.