"Well, the Guardian directors selected another man to take charge of its underwriting affairs, and we didn't hit it off very well—naturally he did things in his own way."
"I know," said the girl, nodding her head; "Mr. Gunterson."
"Good heavens!" said the young man, "is there any use in my attempting to give information to some one who already has it all? If you know all about this and what has gone on, why ask me?"
"I wanted to hear what you'd say. It is a natural desire, I'm sure, and you ought to be willing to help gratify it. You see, you are responsible for my interest in the affairs of your insurance company, and you have almost a parental responsibility."
"How is Wilkinson?" said Smith, engagingly.
"Presently it may be that the conversation can be diverted to Mr.
Wilkinson. But not now."
"Well, then, to go back to the affairs of the Guardian, how is Mr. Osgood? It's rather dangerous for a man who's been in harness so long to get out of it so suddenly. It's not good for a man—in my opinion."
"More adroit—for I really want to tell you about Uncle Silas. But business first—then pleasure."
"Well," said her visitor, with resignation, "go ahead, Miss Portia."
"I wish to know all about what happened in the Guardian while Mr.
Gunterson was in charge," said Helen, simply.