“And good-looking—My eye!”
“Your hair is a whole shade darker, Scorch.”
“You couldn’t say nothing handsomer, Miss—not if you tried for a week,” declared the office boy, shaking hands vigorously. “What’s turned up? Are you going to crack the whip over Old Gordon?”
“How you talk, Scorch! You mustn’t be so disrespectful. And why should I crack any whip over Mr. Gordon?”
“You will when you get the best of him—eh?”
“I certainly shall not. He—he’s been very kind to me, as far as I know.”
“Go in and see if he’s kind now,” grinned the red-haired one.
“Oh, no, Scorch! You announce me.”
“Yah! you’re too easy on him,” growled Scorch, and went off to do as he was bid. When he came back he didn’t look very pleasant.
“He says you can come in,” snapped Scorch.