It was a busy place, perhaps
the busiest in the whole of the Eighth District, and in it were employed
a large number of men. The office was a small brick edifice, separated
from the main buildings, in which the noise of machinery was so great
that one speaking could scarcely be heard. The manager was in, Kenneth
and Beth learned, but could not see them until he had signed the letters
he had dictated for the noon mail.
So they sat on a bench until a summons came to admit them to Mr.
Marshall's private office.
He looked up rather ungraciously, but motioned them to be seated.
"Mr. Forbes, of Elmhurst?" he asked, glancing at the card Kenneth had
sent in.
"Yes, sir."
"I've been bothered already over your election campaign," resumed the
manager, arranging his papers in a bored manner. "Some girl has been
here twice to interview my men and I have refused to admit her. You may
as well understand, sir, that I stand for the Democratic candidate, and
have no sympathy with your side."
"That doesn't interest me, especially, sir," answered Kenneth, smiling.
"I'm not electioneering just now. I've come to talk with you about young
Gates."
"Oh. Well, sir, what about him?"
"I'm interested in the boy, and want to save him from prosecution.
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