The visitors departed at last, and Mary returned to her office to find other callers awaiting her.
The first was Helen, togged to the nines.
"Somehow she heard they were here," thought Mary, "and she came down thinking to meet them. She thought surely I would bring them in here again." But her next reflection made her frown a little. "—Partly that, I guess," she thought, "and partly to see Burdon, as usual."
A knock on the door interrupted her, and Joe entered, bearing two cards.
"These gentlemen have been waiting since noon," he announced, "but they said they didn't mind waiting when I told them who was with you."
The cards bore the name of a firm of public accountants.
"Oh, yes," said Mary. "Show them in, please, Joe. And ask Mr. Burdon if I can see him for a few minutes."
If you had been there, you might have noticed a change pass over Helen. A moment before Burdon's name was mentioned she was sitting relaxed and rather dispirited, as you sometimes see a yacht becalmed, riding the water without life or interest. But as soon as it appeared that Burdon was about to enter, a breeze suddenly seemed to fill Helen's sails. Her beauty, passive before, became active. Her bunting fluttered. Her flags began to fly.
The door opened, but Helen's smiling glance was disappointed. The two auditors entered.
One was grey, the other was young; but each had the same pale, incurious air of detachment. They reminded Mary of two astronomy professors of her college days, two men who had just such an air of detachment, who always seemed to be out of their element in the daylight, always waiting for the night to come to resume the study of their beloved stars.