The girl considered a moment. Then, with sudden decision, she made a connection and spoke a few rapid words into the telephone.
“I’m sorry,” she said as she turned back to Jimmy. “I thought maybe Mr. Wentworth’s secretary would see you.”
Jimmy looked blank. It had never occurred to him that any one he selected to tell his big idea to would be reluctant to see him. He had decided on the Wentworth Glass Company quite by accident—the name was engraved on the glassware of the big Broadway restaurant at which he had dined the evening before, and subsequent inquiries had convinced him it was just the sort of organization he wanted—and so he had planned to interview Robert G. Wentworth, its president, that morning. Yet now it seemed impossible for him to see Mr. Wentworth—the telephone girl seemed to think he was crazy to expect such a thing. And even the president’s secretary was too busy to bother with him! For an instant Jimmy felt his task hopeless.
“Can’t see you,” the telephone girl repeated.
“Wouldn’t Mr. Wentworth see me?”
“Certainly not,” said the girl, with some asperity. “You’d better see Mr. Cooper, if you can’t tell it to me. Maybe he would see you.”
“No,” said Jimmy. “It’s too important.”
“Then maybe if you’d come back tomorrow Mr. Wentworth’s secretary will see you. You might try, anyway—if it’s so important,” she added, at Jimmy’s helpless look of appeal.
“I will,” said Jimmy. “Thank you very much.”
And with sinking heart he turned from the first business interview he had ever had in his life, and went down into the busy city street below.