“Well, it’s about time for spring house-cleaning, you know—do men ever have spring house-cleaning?”
“This one will,” Allan promised, and smiled down into her friendly eyes.
Just then the familiar signal, “31,” which heralded the transmission of a train-order, sounded from the table, and he sat down to receive it. After it had been repeated and confirmed, he turned again to his guest.
“Hadn’t I better wire your father,” he asked, “that you are here and will be home on Number Thirteen this evening?”
She stared at him in amazement.
“Why, how do you know who my father is?” she demanded.
“I happened to be in his office one day about a year ago, when you came after him,” he explained.
“Oh,” she said, but she still looked at him a little doubtfully.
“My name’s West,” he added.
“Allan West?” There was a genuine interest in her eyes now. “Oh, I’ve heard papa speak of you.”