Jock, glaring at the semi-bald spot,
spoke again.
"Of course, Mr. Hupp, if you're too busy to see me--"
"M-m-m-m," a preoccupied hum, such as a busy man makes when he is
trying to give attention to two interests.
"--why I suppose there's no sense in staying; but it seems to me
that common courtesy--"
The busy pencil paused, quivered in the making of a final period,
enclosed the dot in a proofreader's circle, and rolled away across
the desk, its work done.
"Now," said Sam Hupp, and swung around, smiling, to face the
affronted Jock. "I had to get that out. They're waiting for it."
He pressed a desk button. "What can I do for you? Sit down, sit
down."
There was a certain abrupt geniality about him. His
tortoise-rimmed glasses gave him an oddly owlish look, like a
small boy taking liberties with grandfather's spectacles.
Jock found himself sitting down, his anger slipping from him.
"My name's McChesney," he began. "I'm here because I want to work
for this concern." He braced himself to present the convincing,
reason-why arguments with which he had prepared himself.
Whereupon Sam Hupp, the brisk, proceeded to whisk his breath and
arguments away with an unexpected:
"All right.
Pages:
2
3
4
5
6
7
8
9
10
11
12
13
14
15
16
17
18
19
20
21
22
23
24
25
26