Mr. Stockard was a fat, wheezy young man, with a reputation for humor based entirely upon his size and his rubicund face, for he had really never said anything humorous in his life. He came panting into the room now with a "Well, what can I do for you?"
"I wanted to see you about a situation"—began Halliday.
"Oh, no, no, you don't want to see me," broke in Stockard, "you want to see the head janitor."
"But I don't want to see the head janitor. I want to see the head of the clerical department."
"You want to see the head of the clerical department!"
"Yes, sir, I see you are advertising for clerks with preference given to the high school boys. Well, I am an old high school boy, but have been away for a few years at college."
Mr. Stockard opened his eyes to their widest extent, and his jaw dropped. Evidently he had never come across such presumption before.
"We have nothing for you," he wheezed after awhile.
"Very well, I should be glad to drop in again and see you," said Halliday, moving to the door. "I hope you will remember me if anything opens."
Mr. Stockard did not reply to this or to Bert's good-bye. He stood in the middle of the floor and stared at the door through which the colored man had gone, then he dropped into a chair with a gasp.