“Yes,” Elsie agreed, “I think Donald probably would do something just like that and then handle it in such a way that Sergeant Sellers would be very, very grateful instead of angry.”
Determination glinted in Bertha’s eyes. “And that’s what I’m going to do.”
Elsie seemed just a little dubious.
“First rattle out of the box,” Bertha said, “I’m going to do some real salesmanship. I’ve been studying sales psychology and I’m going to go to work on that woman and get a percentage of the estate. She thinks that she can employ me on a per diem basis. I’ll be subtle about it, but determined. Watch the way I handle it, Elsie. This is where Bertha crashes into the big time.”
Bertha grabbed some letters from Elsie’s desk without even bothering to look at them. She held them in her left hand well in front of her, put on her most businesslike air of weighty importance, cleared her throat, and pounded across the reception-room, bustling into her own office, closing the door crisply, and smiling reassuringly at her visitors.
She flung herself into the squeaking swivel chair, cleared a space in front of her on the desk, put down the correspondence she had been holding, and looked past Carlotta to give Mrs. Goldring the benefit of her most sympathetic smile.
“I know how absolutely useless it is to try to assuage grief by words. All I can say is that you have my sincere sympathy.”
“Thank you,” Mrs. Goldring said in the toneless voice of a woman whose perceptions are dulled by a great shock.
Carlotta, sharply businesslike, intruded upon the brief conversational pause which followed. “Mrs. Cool, something terrible has happened — something that has upset Mother so much I’m really afraid she may have a complete nervous breakdown.
Coming on top of the shock of Mabel’s death, it is almost too much for her to bear.”