He followed them to the door, and he had the air of dismissing them with an almost benign courtesy. When they had disappeared with Helen his face took on an expression of utter weariness. “What a nuisance!” he said to himself. “I sha’n’t get a stroke of work done to-day.” He sat at his desk and pressed his fingers over his eyes. His little exhibitions of hypocrisy made him very uncomfortable now, chiefly because he knew that his wife took note of them. After a moment he sat upright and nerved himself to go on with his work. But he had not been alone for five minutes when Michael interrupted again. “The gentlemen that left a few minutes ago have come back, sir.” “They have?” he said, resentfully, as if Michael were to blame. “What do they want?” “They want to speak to you a minute, sir,” the servant replied, in a defensive voice. Briggs uttered an exclamation of impatience. “Show them in here,” he said, looking down at the pile of letters on his desk. Then he stood up and waited for his callers. They came in slowly, as if afraid of treading on one another’s heels; that is, all but one, the youngest and best dressed, a rather handsome fellow of about twenty-eight. “Well, gentlemen?” Briggs remarked, pleasantly. The look of fatigue and resentment had disappeared from his face. His eye singled out the young fellow, as if expecting him to speak. But it was the oldest of the group, a tall, thin man, with a smooth face and heavy, white hair, who spoke first. He had a deprecating manner, a hoarse voice and a faint brogue. “We’ve come back to have another little talk with you, Mr. Briggs,” he said. “All right, Mr. Monahan. Sit down, gentlemen, won’t you?” They all glanced at the chairs and remained standing. “We didn’t know just what reply to make to your remarks a few minutes ago till we put our heads together,” Monahan continued. “Well, what decision have you come to?” Briggs asked, cheerfully. Monahan hesitated. “Well, the fact is----” The young fellow broke in. “We’re not satisfied,” he said, fiercely. “We think you ought to make us a more definite promise.” “That’s it,” Monahan cried, for an instant growing bolder. They scowled at one another. Mr. Briggs directed his look toward the young man. “I think I made no promise to you, Mr. Ferris,” he said, in a low voice. “That’s just the trouble,” Ferris exclaimed. “We worked hard for you last night, and now we don’t propose to be put off with any vague talk.” His lip curled scornfully and showed fine, white teeth. “You’re a little indefinite yourself, now, Mr. Ferris.” “Well, then, I won’t be,” Ferris cried. “We nominated and elected you two years ago, and you went back on us.” “How was that?” Briggs said, as if merely curious. His manner seemed to exasperate Ferris. “You didn’t do a thing for us. We asked you for places, and you let ’em all go to the Civil Service men.” “I had to observe the law,” Briggs answered, in the tone he had used before.