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."