“Three of ’em!” exclaimed Mr. Irving. “Bless my soul!” And he sat helplessly looking at the three girls.
He had no suspicion of Betty’s identity, for her long garments and thick veil and dark glasses were a complete disguise.
The other two he had seen but once or twice, and of course did not recognize them in grown-up attire.
Not a notion of a “joke” entered his mind, but he was mystified by what appeared to be a most extraordinary situation.
“You are Miss Frances Arundel?” he said, looking directly at Betty.
“Yes, sir,” she replied hoarsely, but steadily. “I came to see you about—”
“I have your note,” said Mr. Irving, the paper being still in his hand.
“I didn’t write you any note,” said Betty, in well-feigned surprise. “I just came in now, hoping I’d find you in, because I wanted to ask you—”
“For employment, because I used to know your Uncle Roger!” Mr. Irving almost shouted.
“Yes,” said Betty, seemingly pleased, “but how did you know about Uncle Roger?”