"Yes, sir."
"Tell him Miles is coming, and to get up a little résumé for me of the situation in those districts over there, and ah—perhaps an estimate in a general way of what we ought to do for, ah—Mr. Miles. You will indicate that to him."
"Yes, sir."
"Well, telephone him that." Georgia rose and went to the door. "Ah—Miss Connor——" She turned and looked at her employer, her head tilted forward, with a peculiar open-eyed, steady little stare, which was a trick of hers when wholly interested.
"Did I indicate to you," said he, "that you are my private secretary now?"
"I understand, sir. Thank you."
IV
THE HEAD OF THE HOUSE
Each morning as Georgia entered the elevated train and spread open her paper, she cast off the centuries, being transformed from a housewife to a "modern economic unit."
She smiled at the morning cartoon or perhaps, in the celebrated phrase of Dr. Hackett, she sighed softly for the sake of its meticulous futility. Her penny to the news stand gave her full and free franchise upon the ever anxious question of the popularity of popular art. Other Georgias of Chicago were simultaneously passing like judgments in like elevated cars and the sum of their verdicts would ultimately readjust social distinctions in Cook and Lake counties, Illinois.