The professor abruptly dropped his questioning, and the while company plunged nervously into general conversation again. Joe saw that they would have liked to kick him out, but they couldn’t, because it would not have been high-toned. Instead, they all made out from that moment that Joe was no longer present. That suited Joe very well. He remained in an obscure corner between the end of the piano and the dining-room door. At intervals Mr. Gore’s uneasy eyes crept to Joe’s face, and never failed to find Joe’s eyes waiting. There were great difficulties in Joe’s way. Mr. Gore was so respectable and scary, he saw that it would be up to him to make all the running. In the end his man might escape him out of sheer funk. It was necessary for him to have a private word or two with Mr. Gore before the evening was over; and how was that to be managed when the millionaire was continually surrounded by admiring listeners, who obliged him to play the respectable. That’s what’s the matter with him, thought Joe, thinking of the pained roll to his eyeballs; there’s always people watching him, and he never has a chance to be bad. Well . . . ! Refreshments were served. There was a blight upon the party, and while it was still early, the ladies retired up-stairs to put on their wraps. The gentlemen had left their hats and coats on the hall-rack, and they stood in the hall talking, while they waited for the ladies. Besides Mr. Gore and the Professor, there were two others. The boy who lived in the house had disappeared. It was now or never with Joe. With a modest air he made his way out between the gentlemen. He knew Mr. Gore would look at him as he passed; and he did look. Joe gave him a speaking glance; and letting himself out the door, waited on the stoop. It worked. Mr. Gore presently came through the door behind him, and glanced importantly below as if he had come out to make sure that his carriage was waiting. He made a great business of cutting and lighting a cigar; ignoring Joe. Joe smiled inwardly. He had but a precious second or two; no time to beat around the bush. “I couldn’t go on with that fool business after I seen you,” he murmured. “I could see that you was on to that foolishness.” “That was very, very wrong of you!” said Mr. Gore severely; “to deceive those good ladies!” “I never thought of the wrong of it until after I seen you,” said Joe, making his eyes ask. “Then I was sorry all right. . . . It was them led me into it. They liked to be fooled. And I’m only a poor boy.” “Have you no employment?” asked Mr. Gore. Joe shook his head. “Um! . . . Ha!” said the millionaire. “Will you give me a job?” whispered Joe. Mr. Gore looked scared, and puffed out his cheeks. “Impossible!” he said. “Ah . . . in my sort of business there is nothing suitable. . . .” “Will you let me come to see you?” “Impossible!”