Always a hard but uncomplaining worker, Mr. Mysinger was evidently just leaving for the day. Light overcoat on his arm, stick and gloves in his hand, he whistled blithely to himself, to the tune of labor done. But at the sight of Charles Garrott here on his domain, he checked his gay air, stood still in his official door. Over half the corridor, the two men gazed at each other. And Mr. Mysinger's specious face, after the first surprised stare, assumed the smile of amity and pleasure. "Ah, Garrott! Well met!" Charles had halted, too, without premeditation. The chance meeting here was natural enough. All that gave it the force of coincidence was that he had in that instant been thinking, not for the first time, of Mary Wing's old saying of this man: "If he let either Board know that he wanted me back, it would be done to-morrow...." "I've wanted to see you for some time," said Mr. Mysinger, smiling and easy--"about a certain matter of common interest--" On the great stairway the sound of descending feet was heard, those of a belated teacher, doubtless. But neither man looked to see. And within the sedentary Charles there was slowly spreading a vast iciness, akin to a bodily nausea. "Can't you step into the office half a minute?" "Certainly." Mary's former principal stood aside from his door, bowing, with elaborate welcome. Charles, advancing, passed through it, passed through the anteroom, stepped silent into an office large as a magnate's. Here he stood, just inside the door. Mysinger, following with his faint swagger, went by him toward his handsome flat desk. "Have a cigar?" "Thanks, no." The good-looking principal leaned against his desk, facing his visitor with the same air of too good-humored assurance. "Garrott, let's be frank," said he. "You feel that I am hostile to one of your friends, and stand in the way of her advancement in the schools. You are really mistaken in that. So far as my personal opinions might carry weight, I am anxious for her--for all the teachers--to go forward just as fast as their abilities would justify. But as you know, Garrott, the Board and the Superintendent settle all these matters, and I myself am only one of the teachers under their direction." He paused encouragingly. But the young man at the door only continued to look at him with the same lidless fixedness. "At the same time," said the principal, a rather more resolute note tingeing his voice, "you appreciate as well as I that teachers can't be picked up and moved about like chessmen. We must have some--permanence--some constancy--to insure efficiency. And frankly, my personal judgment--after fifteen years' experience, and considering the brilliant work of Johnson Geddie--is that you could hardly hope to see your friend promoted--well, immediately." "So you would advise--?" Mysinger's eyelid seemed to flutter a little: he really did have a purpose, it seemed.