“Come ahead,” said the old man, and the three went into the office. While a clerk took their message to the inner office, they stood for a couple of minutes, shifting uneasily from one foot to the other, and turning their caps in their hands in the familiar manner of the lowly.
At last Mr. Cartwright appeared in the doorway, his small sparely-built figure eloquent of sharp authority. “Well, what's this?” he inquired.
“If you please,” said Edstrom, “we'd like to speak to you. We've decided, sir, that we want to have a check-weighman.”
“What?” The word came like the snap of a whip.
“We'd like to have a check-weighman, sir.”
There was a moment's silence. “Come in here.” They filed into the inner office, and he shut the door.
“Now. What's this?”
Edstrom repeated his words again.
“What put that notion into your heads?”
“Nothing, sir; only we thought we'd be better satisfied.”