Miss Haig nodded and her rosebud mouth straightened into as thin a line as one could expect of a rouge-à-lèvre rosebud.
"She did, eh?" she rejoined. "Well, if she was to change her mind do you suppose Bienenflug would give you back your job?"
"Maybe!" Ralph said.
"Then here's your chance!" Miss Haig said. "You're a smart kid, Ralph; so all you've got to do is to get Mrs. Fieldstone round to Sam's at half-past eleven to-night—and if she don't change her mind I miss my guess."
"Why will she?" Ralph asked.
"Because," Miss Haig replied, as she made ready to descend in the elevator, "just about that time Fieldstone'll be pretty near kissing her to make her take fifty dollars a week less than she'll ask."
"Kissing who?" Ralph demanded.
"Be there at half-past eleven," Miss Haig said, "and you'll see!"
Though Ralph Zinsheimer had performed the functions of an office boy in Rooms 6000 to 6020 he was, in fact, "over and above the age of eighteen years," as prescribed by that section of the Code of Civil Procedure dealing with the service of process. Indeed he was so manly for his age that Mr. Bienenflug in moments of enthusiasm had occasionally referred to him as "our managing clerk, Mr. Zinsheimer," and it was in this assumed capacity that he had sought Mrs. Fieldstone and had at length persuaded her to go down to Sam's with him.