The clerk nodded.
“Well, I guess I’d like to speak to him when he comes out. May I wait here?”
“Do you know Mr. Latham?”
Willard nodded as carelessly as the clerk. There was nothing to be gained by modesty, he felt. “Yes, I know him,” he said.
Evidently impressed, the clerk moved back to his desk. “All right. Take a seat there.”
Willard returned his petition to his pocket and retired to one of the two chairs along the wall. Ten minutes passed, and then ten minutes more, and finally the door opened again and Mr. Latham came through. Willard waited until the first vice-president was outside the counter. Then:
“Mr. Latham, may I speak to you a minute, please?” he asked, intercepting the gentleman in front of the door.
“Eh?” The official paused. “Certainly, my boy. Hello, I’ve seen you before, haven’t I?”
“Yes, sir, I—we—took you to the paper mills the other day, you know; at Audelsville, sir.”