The head clerk yawned prodigiously, and hummed, and whistled, looked out of the window, and by and by found time to say, “you can leave your name.  And sometime possibly”—­and just then the buzzer clicked, and the applicant saw him disappear into the private office.

* * * * *

It was only the new superintendent’s second day, and to the head clerk he still seemed an unaggressive sort, not much to look at, and, so far, not much to say.  A clever man ought to be able to handle him.  And yet, as the head clerk was crossing the floor of the private office, the eye of the new superintendent never looked away.  Yes, he did have a puzzling eye.

“Close the door, Mr. Grump.  Why not ship that man for that berth?  He seems competent.”

“The captain of the Rapidan said he had a man in mind for the place, sir.”

“M-h-h.  And something of a martinet, isn’t he, this Rapidan captain?”

“Something, sir.”

“M-h-h.  But even so, he probably won’t object to my naming one man of his crew.  And I would like it if you would sign this man.”

“The captain of the Rapidan has always selected all his own crew, sir.”  The head clerk had rested both hands, with fingers spread, on his chief’s desk.  His chief making no reply, the head clerk added:  “And he rather resents interference from the office.”

The superintendent was playing idly with a paper knife.  His gaze seemed to be directed to the lower buttons of his head clerk’s waistcoat.  “Interference?” he repeated.  “Interference?  Mr. Grump, you have a reputation for humor, or so I judge.  I’ve been listening to you trying to bedevil that man out there, but I’m afraid your humor is a little on the slap-stick order.  And so”—­the superintendent raised his head—­“if I use a club on you, instead of the point of a rapier, I hope you won’t think I do it out of natural brutality.”

Their eyes met.  The head clerk straightened from shoulder to heel.  “And now, this is not a request; it is an order:  Sign that man.”

“Yes, sir.”

“And Mr. Grump, why did you ask all those questions of a man you had no notion of shipping?”

“Why, sir, I meant no harm by that, sir.  All kinds come here looking for berths on our ships, and some of them are rather queer ones, you know, sir, and we like to have a little fun with them.”

“Have fun with that man?  I wish I had your intellectual nerve.”

“You know him, sir?  If I had known—­”

“I don’t know him.  I saw him and listened to him, as you did.  But let me tell you something, Mr. Grump.  You’re paid $5,000 a year here, and presumably you know your business.  I get several times that.  Presumably I, too, know my business.  But when you or I reach a stage where we can have fun with that man out there, then you and I won’t have to rest content with our relatively subordinate and unimportant executive positions in the Northern and Southern Oil Company.”