"Come into my office," said Bones, "my private office."

The girl had taken him in with one comprehensive glance, and a little

smile trembled on the corner of her lips as she followed the harassed

financier into his "holy of holies."

"My little den," said Bones incoherently. "Sit down, jolly old--young

miss. Take my chair--it's the best. Mind how you step over that

telephone wire. Ah!"

She did catch her feet in the flex, and he sprang to her assistance.

"Upsy, daisy, dear old--young miss, I mean."

It was a breathless welcome. She herself was startled by the warmth of

it; he, for his part, saw nothing but grey eyes and a perfect mouth,

sensed nothing but a delicate fragrance of a godlike presence.

"I have come to see you----" she began.

"Jolly good of you," said Bones enthusiastically. "You've no idea how

fearsomely lonely I get sometimes. I often say to people: 'Look me up,

dear old thing, any time between ten and twelve or two and four; don't

stand on ceremony----'"

"I've come to see you----" she began again.

"You're a kind young miss," murmured Bones, and she laughed.

"You're not used to having girls in this office, are you?"

"You're the first," said Bones, with a dramatic flourish, "that ever

burst tiddly-um-te-um!"

To be mistaken for a welcome visitor--she was that, did she but guess

it--added to her natural embarrassment.

"Well," she said desperately, "I've come for work."

He stared at her, refixing his monocle.

"You've come for work my dear old--my jolly old--young miss?"

"I've come for work," she nodded.

Bones's face was very grave.

"You've come for work." He thought a moment; then: "What work? Of

course," he added in a flurry, "there's plenty of work to do! Believe

me, you don't know the amount I get through in this sanctum--that's

Latin for 'private office'--and the wretched old place is never

tidy--never! I am seriously thinking"--he frowned--"yes, I am very

seriously thinking of sacking the lady who does the dusting. Why, do

you know, this morning----"

Her eyes were smiling now, and she was to Bones's unsophisticated eyes,

and, indeed, to eyes sophisticated, superhumanly lovely.

"I haven't come for a dusting job," she laughed.

"Of course you haven't," said Bones in a panic. "My dear old lady--my

precious--my young person, I should have said--of course you haven't!

You've come for a job--you've come to work! Well, you shall have it!

Start right away!"

She stared.

"What shall I do?" she asked.

"What would I like you to do?" said Bones slowly. "What about

scheming, getting out ideas, using brains, initiative, bright----" He

trailed off feebly as she shook her head.

"Do you want a secretary?" she asked, and Bones's enthusiasm rose to

the squeaking point.




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