“No. The Rosslyn girl.”
“She’s taking the train to-night and is sending the money down by telegram tomorrow. That’s what I wanted to see you about particularly. I want you to get in touch with Nunnely and make certain the thing doesn’t get away from us. It’s particularly important that we get the judgment cleaned up before noon tomorrow.”
Elsie Brand opened the door. “The water’s boiling.”
Bertha shoved back her creaking swivel chair, heaved herself to her feet. “Well,” she announced, “here’s where we violate some more postal regulations.”
The teakettle over on Elsie Brand’s desk was boiling briskly. Underneath it the electric plate cast a deflected red glow down upon the magazine which Elsie had placed under the plate to protect her desk.
Bertha, holding the envelope in her thumb and forefinger, stalked over to the teakettle, saying to Belder over her shoulder, “Lock the door.”
Bertha bent over the teakettle, skilfully applying the flap to the live steam, concentrating on the task at hand.
Elsie Brand hurriedly pushed against her desk, sending her office chair shooting back on well-oiled casters.
“What is it?” Bertha asked without looking up.
“The door,” Elsie Brand said, and started running.