Even the children were unnatural, sitting there still and wan as wax figures. From time to time a mother would lean over, smooth out her child's dress, pat a spit-curl into place, or whisper instructions. Minnie wondered why the woman next to her repeated over and over again: "Smile pretty at Mr. Binns, darling. Mama'll give you a nice big piece of candy if you're a good little girl. Tell mama what you're going to say to Mr. Binns, Doris."
"Next!"
The mother and child left the waiting room. Before the open door closed again Minnie saw the little girl make an awkward curtsy and heard her say, "'Lo, Mr. Binns, I love 'oo." There followed a pretense of embarrassment from the mother as she playfully remonstrated with the child, but Minnie heard no response from Binns. "He must be a cold-blooded fish," she thought to herself.
"Next!"
An old man tottered into the office. Why, the mother and the child couldn't have been in there more than three minutes. Minnie wondered if that was all the time Binns was going to give her. She felt it hardly a fair test to any woman, though Minnie was certain that Binns would be attracted to her because she was pretty and would appear shy and modest. She would lower her lashes at him as she had done at Al the night she met him at the dance. Mentally she rehearsed every word and gesture. She couldn't fail. Binns was certainly a human being.
Sam Binns was a little man, impersonal, intense, and filled with the romance of reality. Most people, thinking him
