The clerk to whom he addressed himself merely motioned with his head toward a young fellow behind the railing in a corner. The latter, without awaiting the question, shifted comfortably and replied:
“No.”
At the same instant steps were heard in the corridor, the door opened, and Mr. Morrison appeared on the sill. Then Thorpe showed the stuff of which he was made.
“Is this the desk for buying Government lands?” he asked hurriedly.
“Yes,” replied the clerk.
“I have some descriptions I wish to buy in.”
“Very well,” replied the clerk, “what township?”
Thorpe detailed the figures, which he knew by heart, the clerk took from a cabinet the three books containing them, and spread them out on the counter. At this moment the bland voice of Mr. Morrison made itself heard at Thorpe's elbow.
“Good morning, Mr. Smithers,” it said with the deliberation of the consciously great man. “I have a few descriptions I would like to buy in the northern peninsula.”
“Good morning, Mr. Morrison. Archie there will attend to you. Archie, see what Mr. Morrison wishes.”