"Mr. Bennett says for you to write out what it is you want to see
him about," reported Milton, indicating the table before which she
was sitting.
Mary had automatically taken up sobbing, with the release of the
cigarette. She looked at the table on which were letter paper,
pens and ink.
"I may write here?" she asked.
"Surely, ma'am," replied Milton, still very much overwhelmed by
her sorrow.
Weepy Mary sat there, writing and sobbing.
In the midst of his sympathy, however, Milton sniffed. There was
an unmistakable odor of tobacco smoke about the room. He looked
sharply at the "son" and discovered the still smoking cigarette.
It was too much for Milton's outraged dignity. Bennett did not
allow him that coveted privilege. This upstart could not usurp it.
He reached over and seized the boy by the arm and swung him around
till he faced a sign in the corner on the wall.
"See?" he demanded.
The sign read courteously:
"No Smoking in This Office--Please. "PERRY BENNETT."
"Leggo my arm," snarled the "son," putting the offending cigarette
defiantly into his mouth.
Milton coolly and deliberately reached over and, with an
exaggerated politeness swiftly and effectively removed it,
dropping it on the floor and stamping defiantly on it.
"Son" raised his fists pugnaciously, for he didn't care much for
the role he was playing, anyhow.
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