Andrew Pryor was holding her firmly by the hands while she half smiled into his face.
"You little rascal—I mean witch!" he exclaimed. "Why did you not tell me of this long ago? Did you feel that you could not trust me? It is the most extraordinary thing I ever heard of! Where did you get the information that enabled you to do a man's work?"
"You forget that I was a typewriter for a number of years, and that I learned a man's business through copying it for him," she answered, deeply affected by his kindness.
"You are coming right home with me. You shall still be my private secretary if you are a girl."
"You are so good, sir!"
"Oh, hang it all, I forgot about the fortune you will have now, and that you will not have need of me any longer. I am half sorry for the good fortune that robs me of you."
"I am as poor as I was before, Mr. Pryor, and if you will allow me to return to you, you will save me many hours of distress over what my future is to be. I am forced to earn my living now as formerly."
"But, my dear, how is that?"
"Changing my male attire for that of a girl will not alter my circumstances, unfortunately."
"I don't understand it, but come home, and we will talk it over there. Mrs. Pryor has been just as anxious about you as I have, and will be as glad to see you. So will the girls, though hanged if I don't believe they will be disappointed at the change in your sex, for they were all more than half in love with you. Besides that, you have a cousin there——"