“You are awfully good. I thought you would tell me to go, and I certainly deserve to.”
“You certainly do, but we won’t discuss the matter further.”
That was an unhappy week for Patience, and she lost faith in her star. A great foreign actress, whom she was sent to interview, haughtily refused to be seen, and the next morning capriciously sent for a reporter of the “Eye,” the hated rival of the “Day.” She was put on the trail of a fashionable scandal and failed to gather any facts. She was sent to interview a strange old woman, supposed to have a history, who lived on a canal boat, and became so interested in the creature that she forgot all about the “Day,” and did not appear at Mr. Steele’s desk for three days. When she did he looked sternly at her guilty face, although the corners of his mouth twitched.
“I’m delighted to see you have not forsaken us,” he said sarcastically. “May I ask if the canal boat woman quite slipped your memory?”
“N-o-o. I have been there ever since.”
“Indeed?” His ears visibly twitched. “That alters the case. Did you get the story out of her?”
Patience looked at him steadily for a moment, then dropped her eyes.
“There is nothing to tell,” she answered.
Steele sprang to his feet.
“Come out here,” he said. He led her into a corner of the composing-room, and they sat down on a bench.