About a month after Lena had made her investment in the raw materials of
the writer's art, Dick Percival happened to drop into the sooty and
untidy office where for more than a year Norris had been engaged in
manufacturing public opinion.
"Hello!" he cried as he opened the door. Then he stood transfixed at the
vision that met his sight, for a very blond and fuzzy head was bent over
Ellery's desk and a very startled pair of blue eyes was raised to meet
his own. There stood a rosebud dressed in gray. Is there anything more
demure and innocent than a pinky girl in a mousy gown? Dick's hat came
off and a deferential look replaced the careless one.
"Hello, yourself!" said Norris. "You announce yourself like a telephone
girl. Come in. What do you mean by troubling the quiet waters of my
daily toil?"
"I beg your pardon," said Dick politely. "If you are busy I--"
"That's all right. Miss Quincy and I can postpone our confab without
inconveniencing the order of the universe." Miss Quincy was already
gathering her notes, and she smiled at Dick in a half-shy way that said,
"I remember you very plainly." As she disappeared slowly down the hall,
Dick started after her.
"Great Scott, Ellery!" he ejaculated. "How you have lied to me about the
grubbiness of your work! If this is your daily grind, I don't mind
having a whirl at the editorial profession myself."
Norris laughed.
"It isn't the sum total of my duties," he said.
"Who is Hebe?" asked Dick.
"Well, she's rather a problem," Ellery replied. "I believe she appeared
a few weeks ago at Miss Huntress' office--the woman editor, you
know--with a catchy little article on fashions. It happened that the
boss was in the office, and we consider it rather a grind on him, for he
was much taken by either the article or the eyes, and she got a little
job as a sort of reportorial maid-of-all-work. Funny, isn't it? If a
man is buying a rug, he wouldn't think of deciding on it because it was
green, without testing its wearing qualities; but in nine cases out of
ten a girl gets chosen because of her eyes. That's all I know about her.
Pretty, isn't she?"
"Pretty! Is that all the command you have of your native language? You
ought to lose your job for that. Why she's--never mind--I haven't time
now."
"Neither have I," answered Norris sharply. He remembered that long ago
Dick had called Madeline pretty. It is a cheap and easy word. "I haven't
time for you, either. Will you go away; or will you keep still while I
finish this work?"
"Waltz away." Dick sat down on the window-sill and fell into a
meditative state of mind. Once or twice he walked to the door and looked
down the hall, while Norris plugged steadily away and ignored the
presence of his friend.