There was a surprise in store for Betty on her return to the hotel.
"Read that," said Eleanor, full of elation, handing her an open telegram. "Read it aloud," she added laughing, "I can't hear it too often."
It was from Bob in London to say that his father was letting him off for two or three days and he would be with them in time for seven o'clock dinner.
Betty read it aloud, conscious, through her lowered eyelids, of Eleanor Baxter's searching gaze. If Mrs. Baxter expected any revelation from Betty, she was disappointed.
"I'm so glad, Mrs. Baxter; that's just the one thing you need," the girl said calmly and went on with exasperating inconsequence. "It must be nearly five. Do you want tea?"
"No, I don't want tea, I want Bob," pouted Eleanor with an imitation of baby petulance.
"I want Bob," echoed a still small voice from the inmost heart of Betty, but her face betrayed nothing.
"My dear child," said Eleanor after watching her in silence for a while, "I wish you would drop that nonsense about being a secretary. The only way I can keep from letting it out to Bob is by not speaking your name at all. If I did I should be certain to call you Betty and that would be the end of it."
Miss Thompson was sorely tempted, her resolution was breaking down, but pride came to her rescue.
"Please, please don't," she entreated so earnestly that once again Mrs. Baxter yielded.