“Say!” she exclaimed, hoarsely. “I want to see the head of the firm, the man who is attendin’ to Mr. Morley’s work. Where is he?”
The startled lad pulled away, blinked and grinned.
“Guess not,” he retorted. “He’ll take yer skelp off. He won’t talk to nobody this time o’ day.”
“It’s important, I tell you,” cried the woman, fiercely. “It’s a money matter an’ I will see him.”
“Gwan ter trouble, then!” said the boy, pointing a mischievous finger at a closed door marked “No admittance.” “I’ll call de ambulance. He ain’t no Mr. Morley. I see you come out a flyin’ in jest two seconds.”
But Martha was past him, her grasp on the knob, and the door closed behind her as he stared.
“Here! Here!” ejaculated a stout, bald man, turning impatiently from his desk with a twist of his revolving chair. “You’ve made a mistake, madam. Go right out, please.”
“I won’t,” said Martha. “I’m here on important business—an’ I’ll state it before I move one step. You’ve taken Mr. Morley’s place. You’re the head of things, an’ I’ve come straight to you.”
A queer smile crossed the broad face. The man took out his watch. “I’ll give you just one minute,” he said, coolly. “What’s the trouble. Talk fast, now.”
Martha talked fast.