“I’m not so sure of that. We fliers aren’t much here, where they have a world of their own and so many celebrities.”
The girls walked through a hall to a beautiful reception room, where a “publicity” girl, who looked like an actress herself, took Linda’s card and passed into an office to the right.
In a moment she returned with the information that the girls might go into the office.
“Mr. Von Goss is out, but his secretary will see you,” she said. “Mr. Leslie Sprague.”
“You do the talking, Dot,” begged Linda, as they left the room.
“Be yourself!” commanded her companion. “You can fly over the Atlantic Ocean alone, and you’re afraid of an insignificant little secretary!”
Linda laughed. What would she ever do without Dot to restore her courage whenever a fit of shyness overtook her? Holding her head high, she marched into the office where the secretary was sitting.
The latter, a young man of medium height, with a blond moustache, stood up as the girls entered. He opened his mouth to speak—but continued to keep it open without saying anything for a moment.
“There’s some mistake,” he finally managed to stammer.
Linda laughed, quite at ease.