“Mr. Guilfogle will see you now,” said the office girl.

As he entered the manager’s office Mr. Guilfogle made much of glancing up with busy amazement.

“Well, well, Wrenn!  Back so soon?  Thought you were going to be gone quite a while.”

“Couldn’t keep away from the office, Mr. Guilfogle,” with an uneasy smile.

“Have a good trip?”

“Yes, a dandy.”

“How’d you happen to get back so soon?”

“Oh, I wanted to—­Say, Mr. Guilfogle, I really wanted to get back to the office again.  I’m awfully glad to see it again.”

“Glad see you.  Well, where did you go?  I got the card you sent me from Chesterton with the picture of the old church on it.”

“Why, I went to Liverpool and Oxford and London and—­well—­Kew and Ealing and places and—­And I tramped through Essex and Suffolk—­all through—­on foot.  Aengusmere and them places.”

“Just a moment. (Well, Rabin, what is it?  Why certainly.  I’ve told you that already about five times. Yes, I said—­that’s what I had the samples made up for.  I wish you’d be a little more careful, d’ ye hear?) You went to London, did you, Wrenn?  Say, did you notice any novelties we could copy?”

“No, I’m afraid I didn’t, Mr. Guilfogle.  I’m awfully sorry.  I hunted around, but I couldn’t find a thing we could use.  I mean I couldn’t find anything that began to come up to our line.  Them English are pretty slow.”

“Didn’t, eh?  Well, what’s your plans now?”

“Why—­uh—­I kind of thought—­Honestly, Mr. Guilfogle, I’d like to get back on my old job.  You remember—­it was to be fixed so—­”

“Afraid there’s nothing doing just now, Wrenn.  Not a thing.  Course I can’t tell what may happen, and you want to keep in touch with us, but we’re pretty well filled up just now.  Jake is getting along better than we thought.  He’s learning—­” Not one word regarding Jake’s excellence did Mr. Wrenn hear.

Not get the job back?  He sat down and stammered: 

“Gee!  I hadn’t thought of that.  I’d kind of banked on the Souvenir Company, Mr. Guilfogle.”

“Well, you know I told you I thought you were an idiot to go.  I warned you.”

He timidly agreed, mourning:  “Yes, that so; I know you did.  But uh—­well—­”

“Sorry, Wrenn.  That’s the way it goes in business, though.  If you will go beating it around—­A rolling stone don’t gather any moss.  Well, cheer up!  Possibly there may be something doing in—­”

“Tr-r-r-r-r-r-r,” said the telephone.

Mr. Guilfogle remarked into it:  “Hello.  Yes, it’s me.  Well, who did you think it was?  The cat?  Yuh.  Sure.  No.  Well, to-morrow, probably.  All right.  Good-by.”

Then he glanced at his watch and up at Mr. Wrenn impatiently.

“Say, Mr. Guilfogle, you say there’ll be—­when will there be likely to be an opening?”