"I must talk to you, Bob," said Betty hurriedly. "Where are you going? Have you heard from Bramble Farm or Uncle Dick? How long have you been in Washington? Did you get out to Oklahoma?"
Bobby laughed and touched Betty on the arm.
"There's a seat over by the elevator," she suggested. "Why don't you sit there and talk? I'll come back and get you at a quarter to five—I want to get some new hair-ribbons for Esther."
"But you wanted to go up on the roof!" protested Betty, longing to talk to Bob and yet mindful of Bobby's first plans.
"Plenty of other days for that," was the careless response. "See you quarter to, remember. Good-by, Bob—though I'll see you again, of course."
She disappeared into a down elevator, and Betty and Bob sat down on the oak settle in the corridor.
"Wasn't it lucky we met you!" exclaimed Betty, getting a good look at the boy for the first time. "Seems to me you're thinner, Bob. Are you all right?"
"Couldn't be better!" he assured her, but she noticed there were rings under his eyes and that his hands, white enough now in contrast to the tan which still showed at his wrists, were perceptibly thinner. "Fact is, I work in this building, Betty. Kind of junior clerk for a man on the fourth floor, substituting while his clerks are away on vacation. Hale got me the place."
Betty told him of her interview with the old bookshop man, and Bob listened intently.
"So that's how you heard about Oklahoma," he commented. "You could have knocked me down with a feather when you said it. I guess Hale forgot I was working here—he really is dreadfully absent-minded—or else he thought you weren't to be trusted with so important a secret. He's as queer as they make 'em, but he was very good to me; couldn't seem to take enough pains to trace out what he knew of my mother's people."