Run To Seed | Page 4

they have since become.) The President was busily engaged with
two or three of the Directors, wealthy capitalists from the North, who
had come down on important business. He was very much engrossed;
and he did not look up immediately. When he did so he saw standing
inside the door a queer figure,--long, slim, angular,--a man who looked
like a boy, or a boy who looked like a man--red-headed, freckled-faced,
bashful,--in a coat too tight even for his thin figure, breeches too short
for his long legs; his hat was old and brown; his shirt was clean.

"Well, what do you want?" The President was busy.
It was Jim. His face twitched several times before any sound came:
"--I-w-w-w want t-t-t-to ge-get a place."
"This is not the place to get it. I have no place for you."
The President turned back to his friends. At the end of ten minutes,
seeing one of his visitors look toward the door, he stopped in the
middle of a sentence and glanced around.
The figure was still there--motionless. The President thought he had
been out and come back. He had not.
"Well?" His key was high.
"---------I-I-w-w-want to-to get a place."
"I told you I had no place for you. Go to the Superintendent."
"------I i've b-b-b-been to him."
"Well, what did he say?"
"S-s-s-says he ain't got any place."
"Well, I haven't any. Go to Mr. Blake."
"------Iv'e b-been to him.
"Well, go to--to--" The President was looking for a paper. It occupied
his mind.
He did not think any further of Jim. But Jim was there.
"--Go-go where?"
"Oh, I don't know--go anywhere--go out of here."

Jim's face worked. He turned and went slowly out. As he reached the
door he said:
"Go-go-good-evening g-gentlemen."
The President's heart relented: "Go to the Superintendent," he called.
Next day he was engaged with his Directors when the door opened and
the same apparition stepped within--tall, slim, red-haired, with his little
tight coat, short trousers, and clean shirt.
The President frowned.
"Well, what is it?"
"-- --I-I-I w-w-w-went to-to the S-S-Superintendent."
"Well, what about it?"
"Y-y-you told me to-to go-go to him. H-e-e ain't got any place." The
Directors smiled. One of them leaned back in his chair, took out a cigar
and prepared to cut the end.
"Well, I can't help it. I haven't anything for you. I told you that
yesterday. You must not come here bothering me; get out."
Jim stood perfectly still--perfectly motionless. He looked as if he had
been there always--would be there always. The Director with the cigar,
having cut it, took out a gold match-box, and opened it slowly, looking
at Jim with an amused smile. The President frowned and opened his
mouth to order him out. He changed his mind.
"What is your name?"
"J-J-James Upton."
"Where from?"
Jim told him.

"Whose son are you?"
"C-C-C-Captain J-J-James Upton's."
"What! You don't look much like him!"
Jim shuffled one foot. One corner of his mouth twitched up curiously.
It might have been a smile. He looked straight at the blank wall before
him.
"You are not much like your mother either--I used to know her as a girl.
How's that?"
Jim shuffled the other foot a little.
"R-r-run to seed, I reckon."
The President was a farmer--prided himself on it. The reply pleased
him. He touched a bell. A clerk entered.
"Ask Mr. Wake to come here."
"Can you carry a barrel of flour?" he asked Jim.
"I-I'll get it there," said Jim. He leaned a little forward. His eyes
opened.
"Or a sack of salt? They are right heavy."
"I-I-I'll get it there," said Jim. His form straightened.
Mr. Wake appeared.
"Write Mr. Day to give this man a place as brakeman."
"Yes, sir. Come this way." This to Jim.
Jim electrified them all by suddenly bursting out crying.

The tension had given way. He walked up to the wall and leaned his
head against it with his face on his arm, shaking from head to foot,
sobbing aloud.
"Thank you, I--I'm ever so much obliged to you," he sobbed.
The President rose and walked rapidly about the room.
Suddenly Jim turned and, with his arm over his eyes, held out his hand
to the President.
"Good-by." Then he went out.
There was a curious smile on the faces of the Directors as the door
closed.
"Well, I never saw anything like that before," said one of them. The
President said nothing.
"Run to seed," quoted the oldest of the Directors, "rather good
expression!"
"Damned good seed, gentlemen," said the President, a little shortly.
"Duval and Upton.--That fellow's father was in my command. Died at
Gettysburg. He'd fight hell."
Jim got a place--brakeman on a freight-train.
That night Jim wrote a letter home. You'd have thought he had been
elected