“Yes, I’d mind very much,” was the impatient reply. “If you want to leave this application put your name on it. If you don’t, move along. We’re busy here, my young friend.” “But――――” Willard sighed disappointedly――“if I could just wait here until he was at leisure――――” The door behind him opened and closed briskly, and a familiar voice asked: “Cummings in, Jones?” “Yes, Mr. Latham. Step right in, sir.” The man, now smiling and eager to please, hurried toward the end of the counter, lifted a hinged section of it and stood aside while the newcomer hurried through and tapped at a door which Willard had not noticed. In an instant the door had opened and closed and Mr. Latham had disappeared into the inner office. The clerk, for Willard decided that he was no more than that, sauntered back. “That was Mr. Latham, wasn’t it?” asked Willard. The clerk nodded. “Well, I guess I’d like to speak to him when he comes out. May I wait here?” “Do you know Mr. Latham?” Willard nodded as carelessly as the clerk. There was nothing to be gained by modesty, he felt. “Yes, I know him,” he said. Evidently impressed, the clerk moved back to his desk. “All right. Take a seat there.” Willard returned his petition to his pocket and retired to one of the two chairs along the wall. Ten minutes passed, and then ten minutes more, and finally the door opened again and Mr. Latham came through. Willard waited until the first vice-president was outside the counter. Then: “Mr. Latham, may I speak to you a minute, please?” he asked, intercepting the gentleman in front of the door. “Eh?” The official paused. “Certainly, my boy. Hello, I’ve seen you before, haven’t I?” “Yes, sir, I――we――took you to the paper mills the other day, you know; at Audelsville, sir.” “Of course! How are you?” Mr. Latham shook hands heartily. “Let me see, did you tell me your name?” “No, sir. My name’s Willard Morris.” “Well, Morris, what can I do for you? Here, let’s sit down a minute. Now then!” “We want to be allowed to stand our automobile at the station, sir. You see, as it is now, they won’t let us because Connors, the livery stable man, has the――the exclusive privilege. It’s hard to get passengers, Mr. Latham, unless you’re at the platform. Folks don’t see you, sir.” “I suppose not. What’s this?” “It’s a petition. It’s got fifty-five signatures on it, sir. I thought maybe――――” “Very business-like, Morris.” Mr. Latham smiled as he ran his eyes over the petition. “Well, you’d better see Cummings about this. He’s the one to go to.” “That’s what I came here for, sir, but they said he was too busy and wanted me to leave this.”