Mr. Lambert, who had followed somewhat perfunctorily in the wake of his clients, now wheeled about briskly and returned to his well-laden desk, where he proceeded to plunge into a large stack of papers before him with virtuous abandon. He apparently found them of the most absorbing interest, although from time to time he permitted himself a slightly apprehensive glance at the closed door.
Finally it opened, and one of the amiable and harassed-looking young men who shared the desk with him entered purposefully. An animated though inaudible colloquy ensued, punctuated by much emphatic head wagging by Lambert. Finally the young man departed more precipitately than he had come, Mr. Lambert returned to his studies, and the reporter and the red-headed girl emerged from the fascinated hush in which they had been contemplating this silent drama.
“Ten to one she doesn’t get in a syllable to him before he gets through with Ives,” said the reporter.
“Who doesn’t?” The red-headed girl’s tone was a trifle abstracted. She was wondering if her nose was still pink, and if the young man beside her was one of the young men who consider face powder more immoral than tooth powder.
“Sue Ives, goose! What were you screaming about?”
“I was screaming,” said the red-headed girl, memory lighting a reminiscent glitter in her eye, “because they wouldn’t let me in, and I thought that if I made enough noise they might.”
“Why wouldn’t they let you in?”
“Because a fat fiend made a snatch at my ticket and tore it in two and I had only half a one to show them.” She relinquished the powder box regretfully and exhibited a blue scrap about two inches square. “Next time,” she remarked with grim pride, “they’ll know whom this ticket belongs to. Two policemen snatched at me, and I told them if they laid one finger on me, I’d have them up for assault and battery. So they didn’t lay a finger on me.”
“It will probably be a life work—and an uphill job, at that—to eliminate a marked lack of emotional control that is your distinguishing characteristic,” said the reporter meditatively. “However, did you enjoy the picnic?”
“I adored it!” said the emotionally uncontrolled young woman beside him.