them to jump a photographer here in a hurry." He caught Praska's eye. "Room 36, third floor," he called, and was gone up the stairs.
"That fellow's a newspaper reporter," Perry King said in excitement.
In the wake of the reporter went the students. The lines had been broken; they mounted the stairway in one packed mass. The door of Room 36 had a glass lintel; behind it a voice cried in amazement, "You don't mean it! Eight hundred of them!" Then a shadow showed on the glass; the door was thrown open, and the Commissioner of Streets and Public Improvements stood on the threshold. At sight of the crowd in the corridor his eyes opened wide as though here was something they had never seen before.
"I am Commissioner Hunter," he said doubtfully. "Are you sure I am the man you are looking for?"
"Yes, sir," George answered positively. "We came here as a delegation."
"On public business?"
"Yes, sir."
Some of the incredulity faded from the official's face. The gravity of those who had packed their way into the corridor space outside his office was contagious. He still looked upon them with wonder, but into his gaze was coming the dawn
