Victor faced him with instant resentment of this familiarity. "Who are you? What do you want here?" he demanded.
The other, a tall, clumsy, broad-faced individual in costly clothing, seemed surprised and a little alarmed. "I came to see Mrs. Ollnee," he explained. "Who are you?"
"I am her son--and I want to know how you dare to push into my mother's house like this!"
"My name is Pettus," he answered, pacifically. "No doubt you've heard your mother speak of me."
"Oh yes," responded the youth. "I heard Mr. Carew speak of you. You're president of that Transportation Company they're all so wild about."
A shade of apprehension passed over Pettus's fat, ugly face. "Carew! You've seen him? I suppose he gave me a bad name? But never mind--where will I find your mother?"
Victor didn't like the man, and he remained silent till Pettus repeated his question, then he answered, "I can't tell you where my mother is."
Pettus turned away. "I can find her without your aid."
"You keep away from her!" Victor blazed out. "I don't want her sitting for you. She's mixed up too deeply in your affairs already. Carew said--"
"I don't care what Carew said--and I don't care whether you approve of your mother's sitting for me or not. Her controls will decide that question."
He tramped out and down the stairway, and from the window Victor saw him whirl away in his automobile. "That man's a scoundrel and a slob," he said; "a greasy old slob. I will not have my mother sitting for such people. Can't I head him off somehow?"
With sudden resolution he ran down the stairway and over to the telephone booth on the corner. He got the butler at once, and was deeply relieved to find that his mother was out with Mrs. Joyce. "He can't see her before I do," he concluded, as he hung up the receiver. "I'll go over there and wait for her to return."
As he neared the house he met Leo coming out with some letters in her hand, and with the swift resiliency of youth, he asked if he might not walk with her.
"Certainly," she said; "I want to talk with you about your plans."
He hesitated a moment, then answered: "I've been mending that old table--I suppose you heard about my smashing it?"
"Yes; and it seemed a very childish thing to do."