One can't move a step without falling over one." Mr.Bagley drew himself up stiffly, as he always did when assuming an air of authority.
"Your father's personality demands the utmost precaution," he replied.

"We cannot leave the life of the richest and most powerful financier in the world at the mercy of the rabble." "What rabble ?" inquired Jefferson, amused.
"The common rabble--the lower class--the riff-raff," explained Mr.
Bagley.
"Pshaw!" laughed Jefferson.

"If our financiers were only half as respectable as the common rabble, as you call them, they would need no bars to their houses." Mr.Bagley sneered and shrugged his shoulders.
"Your father has warned me against your socialistic views." Then, with a lofty air, he added: "For four years I was third groom of the bedchamber to the second son of England's queen.

I know my responsibilities." "But you are not groom of the bedchamber here," retorted Jefferson.
"Whatever I am," said Mr.Bagley haughtily, "I am answerable to your father alone." "By the way, Bagley," asked Jefferson, "when do you expect father to return?
I want to see him." "I'm afraid it's quite impossible," answered the secretary with studied insolence.

"He has three important people to see before dinner.