“Must you really go?” said the millionaire in a regretful tone as if they would really confer a favor by disturbing still longer the privacy of himself and his wife.

The clerk looked hesitatingly at his employer, as if there was still something on his mind that was troubling him.  Peevishly he said: 

“Yes, it’s late.  I want to get to bed.  It’s nearly one o’clock and I’ve got to be at the office by nine It’s different with you.  You haven’t got to be there unless you want to.  That makes a difference.”

“So it does,” said the millionaire carelessly.  Abruptly, as if he did not wish the conversation prolonged, he said:  “Well, good night!”

“Good night,” rejoined the other in a surly, dissatisfied tone.

Virginia rose and went towards her sister.

“Good night, dear,” she said affectionately.

“Good night.”

As she was going out Fanny suddenly turned back.  Running to her brother-in-law, she said: 

“Thank you so much for the auto.”

“That’s all right!” he said with a good natured laugh, as if the giving away of automobiles was an incident of every day.  “It’s for the kid.  Kiss her good-night for me, will you?”

“Indeed, I will!” exclaimed Fanny gratefully.  “Good night.”

She followed Virginia out of the room and the two men stood looking at each other—­Jimmie somewhat intimidated, Stafford with an amused expression on his face as if wondering what demand this extraordinary employee of his would make upon him next.  There was an awkward pause.  Finally the clerk said: 

“If I don’t get a good eight hours’ sleep my brain don’t work right.  Would you mind if I was late an hour or so in the morning?”

“I wouldn’t,” replied Stafford dryly.  “But McLaughlin might.  He’s the superintendent of your department and I never interfere with the superintendent.”

“He’d be sure to call me down,” snapped Jimmie sourly.  “He’s got it in for me and don’t mind showing it.  Some time I’ll tell him what I think about him.”

Stafford shook his head.  Warningly he said: 

“Don’t you do it.  If you do he might tell you what he really thinks about you.  So take my advice and don’t go out of your class.”

“But if I told him that you—­”

“Don’t!” said the millionaire curtly.  “I never interfere with the superintendent.”

“Then I suppose I’ll have to be there,” said Jimmie sulkily:  “But remember this—­if I don’t get a good eight hours’ sleep, my brain don’t work right.  So if I’m not up to my usual standard, don’t blame me.”

He turned on his heel and was leaving the room when he bumped into his sister-in-law, who was just coming in.

“Good night, Virginia,” he mumbled.

“Good night, Jimmie,” she replied cordially.

He went out, closing the door behind him.

CHAPTER XV