He shook his head. “Can’t do it, Glen! Up to our eyes in a rush order, you know that as well as I do! We can’t——”
“I think we’ll dismiss the hands immediately, Manders,” said Peter Parker quietly.
“You are quite right, Peter,” said the Federation President, regarding her offspring with surprised respect.
The superintendent started to speak and caught himself. He might have been, in childish fashion, counting ten before he spoke. “Mr. Parker, you’ll have to excuse me if I don’t take orders from you in this case. I know our needs a good deal better than you do, and I know how much attention to pay to a bluff like this—” he took the note from Glen’s hand, tore it contemptuously, and dropped it into the wastebasket.
Janice Jennings, her thin bare arms folded, leaning against a small cupboard set cornerwise, noted with amusement the look of rapturous admiration and approval which Nancy Carey bent upon Manders, and the grieved shock in Glen Darrow’s eyes. The girl from Pittsburg was having an exceptionally good time.
“Peter!” His mother’s tone was admonitory.
“Sit tight, Eugenia,” said her son, and then, addressing himself to the superintendent’s assistant, “Will you be good enough to ring the bell or press the button or blow the whistle—whatever the signal is for ‘All ashore?’”
“Yes!” Glen Darrow started toward the door, but halted sharply.
Miss Jennings had emitted a small shriek. Her feet seemed glued to the spot on which they were placed, but she had risen on her toes and was leaning forward, away from the corner cupboard, looking back at it over her shoulder, her bright little eyes as wide as possible.
“Say, listen, is there a clock in here?”