So it was Willard who boarded the 9:01 that Monday morning and settled himself back in a red plush seat with a feeling of vast importance. The agent at Audelsville had told him where to find the railroad offices when he reached his destination and had even taken enough interest in the project to suggest that Willard see the Division Superintendent in the forenoon. He would be in better humor then, thought the local agent. Possibly neither you nor I would have considered the trip to Providence anything more than a bore, but to Willard, who seldom traveled by train, it was quite exciting and very far from being a bore. He arrived at Providence almost a whole hour before noon and made his way at once to the offices of the railroad, which occupied all of a big, old-fashioned brick building across the street from the station. An elevator took him past one floor and deposited him on the next, and he wandered down a long, dim corridor lined with doors whose upper halves held ground glass variously inscribed with figures and letters. Room 18 was found at last and, uncertain whether to knock or walk boldly in, Willard finally turned the knob and entered. Inside he found himself confronted by a counter which ran the width of the room and behind which were three desks occupied by as many busy men. As no one paid any attention to him, at the end of a minute Willard summoned his courage. “I’d like to see the Division Superintendent,” he announced to the room at large. A young man with a worried expression looked up and fixed Willard with a stern gaze. “Business?” he demanded. “Yes, sir,” replied Willard. “Business?” demanded the man in a louder tone. “Oh――why――if you please, I’d like to see him about getting a stand at Audelsville,” stammered Willard. “Stand?” The man frowned. A second occupant of the room bobbed his head inquiringly around the corner of his desk, scowled and disappeared again. Willard wondered if he was the Superintendent. “What sort of a stand?” demanded the first man crossly. “Why, a stand for an automobile.” Willard pulled his petition from his pocket and the man arose and came to the counter, stretching a hand forth for the document. Willard gave it to him and the man skimmed it quickly. Then: “I see,” he said rather contemptuously, deftly dipping a pen in an ink-well and proffering it. “All right. Put your name and address in the corner here and leave it.” “Leave it?” Willard, with pen in hand, hesitated. “Yes. We’ll let you hear in a few days. Hurry up, please.” “But――but I’d rather see Mr. Cummings himself, sir!” “I dare say. But Mr. Cummings is busy. He can’t see everyone, you know, kid.” “But I came all the way from Audelsville, sir!” pleaded Willard. “I――I might just as well have mailed this if――if I can’t see him.” “Just as well,” replied the other, yawning frankly and glancing at the electric clock on the wall. “Well?” “Don’t you think he’d see me for just a minute? Would you mind asking him, please?”