CHAPTER XVII
TOUCHING ON TINK TUTTLE
"On your way, now, on your way!" says I; gazin' haughty over the brass gate. "No window cleanin' done here durin' office hours!"
"But," says the specimen on the other side, "I—I didn't come to clean the windows."
"Eh?" says I, sizin' up the blue flannel shirt, the old leather belt, and other marks of them pail and sponge artists. "Well, we don't want any sash cords put in, or wirin' fixed, or any kind of jobbin' done until after five. That's General Order No. 1. See?"
He nods in kind of a lifeless, unexcited way; but he don't make any motions towards beatin' it. "I—I—the fact is," he begins, "I wish to see some one connected with the Corrugated Trust Company."
"You've had your wish," says I. "I'm Exhibit A. For a profile view of me step around to the left. Anything more?"
He don't get peeved at this, nor he don't grin. He just keeps on bein' serious and calm. "If you don't mind," says he, "I should like to see one of the higher officials."
"Say, that's almost neat enough to win out," says I. "One of the higher officials, eh? How would the president suit you?"
"If I might see him, I'd like it," says he.