"
"Burt doesn't like it, himself. He told me it was all formula; that you
could always get a laugh out of people about something they'd been
taught to consider funny, like a red nose or a smashed hat. He's got a
list of Sign Posts on the Road to Humor."
"The cynicism of twenty-eight," smiled the tolerant Mr. Gordon. "Don't
let yourself be inoculated."
"Mr. Gordon," said Banneker doggedly; "I'm not doing the kind of work I
expected to do here."
"You can hardly expect the star jobs until you've made yourself a star
man."
Banneker flushed. "I'm not complaining of the way I've been treated.
I've had a square enough deal. The trouble is with me. I want to know
whether I ought to stick or quit."
"If you quit, what would you do?"
"I haven't a notion," replied the other with an indifference which
testified to a superb, instinctive self-confidence. "Something."
"Do it here. I think you'll come along all right."
"But what's wrong with me?" persisted Banneker.
"Too much restraint. A rare fault. You haven't let yourself out." For a
space he drummed and mused. Suddenly a knuckle cracked loudly. Mr.
Gordon flinched and glared at it, startled as if it had offended him by
interrupting a train of thought. "Here!" said he brusquely.
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