Jim's face worked. He turned and went slowly out. As he reached the door he said: "Go-go-good-evening g-gentlemen."
The President's heart relented: "Go to the Superintendent," he called.
Next day he was engaged with his Directors when the door opened and the same apparition stepped within—tall, slim, red-haired, with his little tight coat, short trousers, and clean shirt.
The President frowned.
"Well, what is it?"
"—— I-I-I w-w-w-went to-to the S-S-Superintendent."
"Well, what about it?"
"Y-y-you told me to-to go-go to him. H-e-e ain't got any place." The Directors smiled. One of them leaned back in his chair, took out a cigar and prepared to cut the end.
"Well, I can't help it. I haven't anything for you. I told you that yesterday. You must not come here bothering me; get out."