"Stupid!" she declared. "I shall wear my hat with the wing and we will call around at Saunders' and I can buy a motor veil. I always did think that a motor veil would suit me. We'd better call at Mrs. Cross's, too, and have her come in and cook the supper. Don't get into mischief while I'm upstairs."
"I'll come, too—and see little Alfred," he added, hastily.
"Carry the tray, then, and mind where you're going," Ellen ordered.
CHAPTER XXX
A MAN'S SOUL
The half-yearly directors' meeting of the Menatogen Company had just been held. One by one, those who had attended it were taking their leave. The auditor, with a bundle of papers under his arm, shook hands cordially with the chairman—Alfred Burton, Esquire—and Mr. Waddington, and Mr. Bomford, who, during the absence of the professor in Assyria, represented the financial interests of the company.
"A most wonderful report, gentlemen," the auditor pronounced,—"a business, I should consider, without its equal in the world."
"And still developing," Mr. Waddington remarked, impressively.
"And still developing," the auditor agreed. "Another three years like the last and I shall have the pleasure of numbering at least three millionaires among my acquaintances."
"Shall we—?" Mr. Burton suggested, glancing towards Waddington.