"Oh, yes! Yes!"—but her face belied her. She tugged at her hat, seeking, even in her nervousness, to adjust it becomingly.
"What're y' pussy-footin' around here for?" questioned Tottie, sharply.
"I'm not.—Tottie, can I see Mr. Hull alone?"
"Sure, dearie. As I say, don't never git your ear full of other folks's troubles—and secrets." She went out, with a backward look at once crafty and resentful.
With a quick warning sign to Hull, Clare ran to the door, bent to listen a moment, holding her breath, then ran to him, leading him toward the window. "Felix," she began, "go back to Northrups. I'll 'phone you in an hour."
He had been watching her anxiously. "What is it? Something wrong?"
"Yes! Yes! My—my brother and sister—in Africa." She got his hat from where he had laid it on the rocker.
"In trouble?" he persisted, studying her narrowly.
"Yes,—in trouble. And I don't want to see any reporters—not one!"
"That's all right"—he spoke very gently—"I'll see them."