The flapper gives him one long look, then bows her head. She sees all
the nobility she has missed. Serve her right, too!
Noon came and he was about to leave the office. He was still the changed
man of quip and jest. Desperately he jested with old Metzeger, who was
regretfully, it seemed, relinquishing his adored ledgers from Saturday
noon until Monday morning.
"Say, I want to borrow nineteen thousand eleven hundred and eighty-nine
dollars and thirty-seven cents until the sixteenth at seven minutes to
eleven."
Old Metzeger repeated the numbers accurately. He looked wistful, but he
knew it was a jest.
"Telephone for Boston Bean!" cried an office boy, dryly affecting to be
unconscious of his wit.
He rushed nervously for the booth. No one in the great city had ever
before found occasion to telephone him. He thought of Professor
Balthasar. Balthasar would warn him to fly at once; that all was
discovered.
He held the receiver to his ear and managed a husky "Hello!"
At first there were many voices, mostly indignant: "I want the manager!"
"Get off the line!" "A hundred and nine and three quarters!" "That you,
Howard? Say, this is--" "Get--off--that--line!" "Or I'll know the reason
why before to-morrow night!" And then from Bedlam pealed the voice of
the flapper, silencing these evil spirits.
"Hello! Hello! This line makes me perfectly furious. To-morrow about
three o'clock--you're to give us tea and things, some nice place--Granny
and me.
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