“Couldn’t I help Mr. Jones, too?” asked the girl eagerly.
Kelly stared at her in amazement. “No, it can’t be done,” he cried, emphatically. “Whoever heard of a woman trainer? You’ve had no experience anyway.”
Virginia blushed. “I didn’t mean to help train him.” She waxed indignant at the thought. “I only offered to do those things which I could do.”
“Oh–” Kelly was relieved–“go as far as you like. There is plenty of chance for all on that fellow. It would be dandy if you could work it to get him out of doors once in awhile.”
“Watch me,” she promised.
Mr. Jones reentered the room physically clean and mentally chastened but deep in gloom. He had forgotten that the darkest hour comes just before dawn. Yet, a private secretary must not allow his personal feelings to interfere with duty. He approached Virginia in what might be described as a graceful manner marred by lameness. “I regret the unfortunate occurrence which delayed me,” he apologized. “If Miss Dale wishes to see her father–”
A pair of blue eyes rested upon him in the kindest manner and a most attractive mouth said, “I know that my father is away today and that neither of you has much to do.”
Obadiah’s official staff looked guilty.
Virginia went on with enthusiasm. “We are going to give a concert this afternoon for the old ladies at the Lucinda Home. It will be lovely. A brass band–ice cream–Mr. Wilkins–”
The high interest of the young man cooled slightly at the lawyer’s name, regardless of the pleasing company in which he was mentioned.