“Will you do me a favor?” he asked.
“I should be delighted,” she replied. “What is it?”
“Put a fresh sheet of paper on your machine. I want you to write a note for me.”
“Certainly. There; now I’m ready for you to dictate.”
“All right. Got the date down?”
“Yes.”
“Then here goes: ‘Mr. Oliver Bird,—Wall Street. Dear Sir—Please close out my L. S. stock——’”
“Your what?” almost gasped Millie, stopping the machine.
“Please don’t interrupt me, Miss Price,” said Jack, with a sober countenance, while the girl stared at him with all her eyes.
“Go on,” said Jack. “Stock, I think, was the last word. ‘Stock at the ruling quotation at once, and oblige yours very truly.’ That’ll do. I’ll sign it while you are addressing the envelope.”