The explanation struck Kelly as reasonable and for the moment it sufficed, as he gave his attention to the passing machine. “That’s a peach of a car,” he proclaimed, and in further commendation, “Gosh, it’s as fine as the old man’s!”
Now it was so close that Mr. Jones was enabled to place an expert’s eyes upon it. “Why,” gasped that specialist, astounded by the revelations of his own keen optic, “blamed if it ain’t the old man’s car and,” he stammered in his excitement, “I–I–It’s the old man’s daughter–Virginia–in that minstrel parade.”
In silent wonder the young men watched the passing marvel and, turning, followed it as if expecting further events of an extremely sensational nature.
“By Jove, there’s the old man.” The eagle eye of Mr. Jones had picked his employer unerringly from amidst the multitude. “He sees the car,” the stenographer continued, as one announcing races, on distant tracks, to interested spectators. “Wilkins is kidding him. He’s getting sore. We’d better beat it.” Regardless of previous fearlessness, Mr. Jones guided his companion into the entrance of a building from which vantage point they watched the meeting of Obadiah and his daughter.
“By crackie, he’s hot. Everybody is laughing at him.” To prove the truth of his own assertion, Mr. Jones threw back his head and guffawed cruelly at the embarrassment of his employer.
One o’clock found the two clerks at their desks. Obadiah was a punctual man. Always on time himself, he demanded it of his employees. Today, however, minutes flew by with no sign of the manufacturer’s return.
At one thirty, Mr. Jones entered Kelly’s room to confer in regard to this unwonted tardiness. Resting his elbows upon the bookkeeper’s desk he projected his head within the area of light in which his colleague labored and submitted a sporting proposition. “I’ll bet my hat that the old man is raising the deuce somewhere.”
Kelly inspected the illuminated face of the stenographer with interest, as if the brilliant rays exposed flaws which he had not previously noted. Disregarding the wager, he replied with emphasis, “You said a mouthful.”
Mr. Jones displayed marked uneasiness. “I’m surprised that he is not back. He had important matters to attend to.” The stenographer waxed mysterious. “Only this morning he called me in. ‘Mr. Jones,’ sez he, ‘I must have your invaluable assistance, today, on a matter of great importance. I couldn’t get along without your help. Please, don’t step out without warning me.’”
Apparently Kelly regarded the stenographer’s secret revelations lightly. “You told him that you didn’t have the time?” he suggested with a grin.