now--go anywhere--go out of _here_."

Jim's face worked. He turned and went slowly out. As he reached the door
he said:

"Go-go-good-evening g-gentlemen."

The President's heart relented: "Go to the Superintendent," he called.

Next day he was engaged with his Directors when the door opened and the
same apparition stepped within--tall, slim, red-haired, with his little
tight coat, short trousers, and clean shirt.

The President frowned.

"Well, what is it?"

"-- --I-I-I w-w-w-went to-to the S-S-Superintendent."

"Well, what about it?"

"Y-y-you told me to-to go-go to him. H-e-e ain't got any place." The
Directors smiled. One of them leaned back in his chair, took out a cigar
and prepared to cut the end.

"Well, I can't help it. I haven't anything for you. I told you that
yesterday. You must not come here bothering me; get out."

Jim stood perfectly still--perfectly motionless. He looked as if he had
been there always--would be there always. The Director with the cigar,
having cut it, took out a gold match-box, and opened it slowly, looking
at Jim with an amused smile. The President frowned and opened his mouth
to order him out. He changed his mind.

"What is your name?"

"J-J-James Upton."

"Where from?"

Jim told him.

"Whose son are you?"

"C-C-C-Captain J-J-James Upton's."

"What! You don't look much like him!"

Jim shuffled one foot. One corner of his mouth twitched up curiously.
It might have been a smile. He looked straight at the blank wall before
him.

"You are not much like your mother either--I used to know her as a girl.
How's that?"

Jim shuffled the other foot a little.

"R-r-run to seed, I reckon."

The President was a farmer--prided himself on it. The reply pleased him.
He touched a bell. A clerk entered.

"Ask Mr. Wake to come here."

"Can you carry a barrel of flour?" he asked Jim.

"I-I'll get it there," said Jim. He leaned a little forward. His eyes
opened.

"Or a sack of salt? They are right heavy."

"I-I-I'll get it there," said Jim. His form straightened.

Mr. Wake appeared.

"Write Mr. Day to give this man a place as brakeman."

"Yes, sir. Come this way." This to Jim.

Jim electrified them all by suddenly bursting out crying.

The tension had given way. He walked up to the wall and leaned his head
against it with his face on his arm, shaking from head to foot, sobbing
aloud.

"Thank you, I--I'm ever so much obliged to you," he sobbed.

The Presiden