“That’s what I want to know. You wrote me that it meant more trouble for your firm.”
“Yes, but that was before I had seen Mr. Stockton. Then I ran across Mr. Eggleston just as he was coming out of the trust company, and he sent me to Madeleine—and we couldn’t get here quick enough. She beat me running up your stairs. Hasn’t she told you? And you don’t know about Stockton’s letter? No! Why, he has offered me the position of head of the bond department of the trust company at a salary of ten thousand a year, and I go to work to-morrow! Here’s his letter. Let me read you the last clause:”
“No, let me,” cried Madeleine, reaching for the envelope.
“It is all her doing, Phil.”
“No—I’ll read it,” begged Phil.
“No, you won’t! I’ll read it myself!” burst out Madeleine, catching the letter from Phil’s hand and whirling around the room in her glee. “Listen: ‘The Trust Company needs men like you, Mr. Colton, and so does the Street!’ Isn’t that lovely?”
“And that’s not all, Old Gentleman!” shouted Phil. “We are going to be married in a month. What do you think of that!”