"A young man."
"Send them in, please."
Masterson obeyed and managed to linger until his curiosity was both appeased and heightened by seeing Jewel run across the Turkish rug and completely submerge the stately gray head beneath the brim of her hat.
"Well, I'll—be—everlastingly"—thought Masterson, as he softly passed out and closed the door behind him. "Even Achilles could get it in the heel, but I'll swear I didn't believe the old man had a joint in his armor."
Zeke stood twisting his hat, and when his employer was allowed to come to the surface, he spoke respectfully:—
"Mother said I was to bring word if you would like a late supper, sir."
"Tell Mrs. Forbes that it will be only something light, if anything. She need not prepare."
Jewel danced to the door with her escort as he went. "Good-by, Zeke," she said gayly. "Thank you for bringing me."
"Good-by, Jewel," he returned in subdued accents, and stumbling on the threshold, passed out with a furtive wave of his hat.
The child returned and jumped into a chair by the desk, reserved for the selected visitors who succeeded in invading this precinct. "I suppose you aren't quite through," she said, fixing her host with a blissful gaze as he worked among a scattered pile of papers.