“I never heard you enter the room.” Polly moved back to her own desk. “Your husband must find you a perfect treasure when you are attending him during his illness.”
Mrs. Hale flushed and promptly forgot to utter the sympathetic platitudes she had prepared when on her way to find Polly. Austin Hale ever engaged to such a chit of a girl? The idea was unbelievable. And John, her staid, solemn brother-in-law, in love with her! Mrs. Hale snorted. Joe Richards should be given a piece of her mind for putting such ideas in her head; she would even speak to Judith about it.
“Why were you going through my husband’s papers?” she asked, and her manner in putting the question was anything but agreeable. “I insist upon an answer.”
Polly’s eyes opened innocently. “Surely, Mrs. Hale, the matter is not secret. I was looking for a memorandum which your husband left for me. It was about so square,”—demonstrating with her fingers,—“on yellowish paper.”
Polly, when moving her hands, dislodged a package of papers and they fell to the floor. In stooping to pick them up, she missed seeing Mrs. Hale’s quick start and sudden change of color. When she raised her head, she found Mrs. Hale’s cold blue eyes were regarding her with disconcerting intensity.
“Was John in here a moment ago?” she asked, and Polly was conscious of flushing hotly; the question was unexpected.
“Didn’t you see him leave, Mrs. Hale?” she asked sweetly, and this time it was Mrs. Hale who flushed. There were occasions when she actively disliked her husband’s accomplished secretary.
“I met him in the hall,” she explained coldly. “But I was not sure whether he had just left here or my husband’s bedroom. Please remember, Polly, that Mr. Hale is ill and that the sound of your typewriter carries into the next room.”
“In that case”—Polly drew her chair closer to her desk with a businesslike air and picked up her pen—“I will write answers in long hand to these business communications, unless you wish something further”—and she waited in polite expectancy.
“I want nothing”—Mrs. Hale drew herself up. “Kindly make as little noise as possible, Polly. Above all, don’t let that telephone ring,” pointing to the instrument which stood almost at the girl’s elbow.