Just outside in the hall he met a beautiful young girl. She had chestnut hair and large, flashing gray eyes, and carried her head and shoulders regally.
“Did you want ter see Mr. Atherton?” asked Bob, quickly. He had seen that she was a stranger, and he was the guardian of the office.
“I am looking for Miss Marlowe, his typewriter,” said the beautiful girl, sweetly.
“Miss Marlowe is my twin sister, and I am in a great hurry to see her.”
The boy glanced up at the clock in the hall.
“Sorry, miss, but she is out to lunch,” he said, briefly. “Won’t be back for at least two hours, I reckon.”
“What! Does my sister spend so much time over her luncheon as that?” asked the young girl, in astonishment.
“Well, not usually,” was the answer, in a drawling voice, “but she’s out with the boss to-day, you see, so I give ’em two hours. They can’t get back no sooner.”
Marion Marlowe gasped at this bit of information, but she controlled herself perfectly in the presence of this youngster.