“Olsen,” said the manager, “is there anything downstairs you could find for this man to do? I’d like to give him something.”
“I don’t know, sir,” said Olsen. “We have about all the help we need. I think I could find something, sir, though, if you like.”
“Do. Take him to the kitchen and tell Wilson to give him something to eat.”
“All right, sir,” said Olsen.
Hurstwood followed. Out of the manager’s sight, the head porter’s manner changed.
“I don’t know what the devil there is to do,” he observed.
Hurstwood said nothing. To him the big trunk hustler was a subject for private contempt.
“You’re to give this man something to eat,” he observed to the cook.
The latter looked Hurstwood over, and seeing something keen and intellectual in his eyes, said:
“Well, sit down over there.”