Thus resolved, Betty threw herself zealously into her work and presently brought such a spirit of intensely modern activity into this ancient and solemn room that the row of ancestors in their dull frames above the paneling looked down in faded astonishment at this vivid, self-reliant, American girl bending busily over her desk by the window.
So absorbed was the new secretary in these duties that she did not hear a quick step in the conservatory nor the opening of the farther French window as Bob Baxter, glowing with health after a brisk walk, stepped into the library. He paused at the sight of Betty and waited, smiling, for her to look up, which she presently did with a startled "Oh!"
"I beg your pardon," he said presently. "I see you're on the job, Miss Thompson."
"Yes," she said briefly, wondering if this was a sarcastic reference to her late appearance.
"I've just been for a walk around the pond. They call it a lake, I'm told." He settled himself comfortably on a fat blue davenport that offered its ample hospitality just beyond the typewriter.
"Do they?" she replied, scarcely looking up.
"Why, yes."
She faced him now and decided that he had not meant to be sarcastic. And he was good looking. How could she have thought him plain the night before? It was such a relief to see a man clean shaven after those hideous mustaches and scraggly beards in Paris!
Then she resumed her work, while the object of her approval picked up a newspaper listlessly, and for several minutes there was no sound in the library save the rustle of sheets. Then suddenly Bob's expression changed to one of absorbed interest.
"Great Scott!" he exclaimed. "Robbery in a railway carriage!! Five thousand pounds! That's $25,000! Why, he's a friend of father's! He visited us in New York!"