“Business?” he demanded.
“Yes, sir,” replied Willard.
“Business?” demanded the man in a louder tone.
“Oh—why—if you please, I’d like to see him about getting a stand at Audelsville,” stammered Willard.
“Stand?” The man frowned. A second occupant of the room bobbed his head inquiringly around the corner of his desk, scowled and disappeared again. Willard wondered if he was the Superintendent. “What sort of a stand?” demanded the first man crossly.
“Why, a stand for an automobile.” Willard pulled his petition from his pocket and the man arose and came to the counter, stretching a hand forth for the document. Willard gave it to him and the man skimmed it quickly. Then:
“I see,” he said rather contemptuously, deftly dipping a pen in an ink-well and proffering it. “All right. Put your name and address in the corner here and leave it.”
“Leave it?” Willard, with pen in hand, hesitated.
“Yes. We’ll let you hear in a few days. Hurry up, please.”