"I got the car this week," he informed me. "It's a bird to go. So long!"
He was off again, skidding around the next corner in such fashion as to make me sympathize with his life insurance company, and I started up the stairs to see Frances. I must say that I was rather nervous. The task of telling her about that letter seemed, now that it was so nearly impending, a rather tough one to carry out. As usual in such cases, my footsteps became slow on the last of the stairs.
I knocked at the door, which was opened by Frieda.
"Come in, Dave," she said. "I thought I'd drop in to see that Baby Paul was none the worse for his experience. I might as well have saved my breath, as far as I can see. Frances needs a little bracing up; I think she's rather discouraged this morning."
"One moment," I excused myself. "I forgot a paper I wanted to show her."
My room appeared to have been ransacked, but I saw that Mrs. Milliken, in spite of my stern commands, had indulged her passionate longing for putting things in order. A quarter of an hour's arduous searching, however, revealed the journal I sought. The door had been left open, and I walked right in.
"Good morning," I said. "I have seen Gordon this morning and he will be pleased to employ you again, Frances, and—and I have a paper here. It is yesterday's, and I found something that may perhaps interest you, and—and——"
But she had risen quickly and took the paper from me, her voice trembling a little.
"Where—what is it?" she asked eagerly.
It took me a minute to find that column again. When I pointed out the notice, she took the sheet from me, staring at it as if doubting her eyes.