CHAPTER III.
MARION ARRIVES JUST IN TIME.
At exactly noon the day after Bert Jackson’s warning, Miss Dixon sat alone in the private office.
She had been taking dictation all the morning, and was a trifle weary.
“It is very strange,” she said to herself. “Mr. Atherton is not in the habit of taking his typewriter to lunch with him, and I have been here two years and never received an invitation.”
Bob Day, the office boy, came in with some papers. There was a grin on his face as he laid them on the desk.
“He’s mashed on her, sure pop!” he said, with great jubilation. “You just ought to seen him smirk at her when they went down in the elevator.”
“Nonsense!” said Miss Dixon, sharply. “You must be mistaken, Bob. Mr. Atherton was never known to take one of us to luncheon.”
“Oh, well, you ain’t all got her style,” said the boy, unfeelingly. “Why, Miss Marlowe is a peach! She’s got all of us stuck on her.”
“Much good will it do her,” said Miss Dixon, sadly. “She’s too pretty for her own good—that’s what I’ve often told her.”
“She’ll wear diamonds if she sticks to me,” sang out Bob, as he went noisily out of the office.