Lena's Progress

About a month after Lena had made her investment in the raw materials of
the writer's art, Dick Percival happened to drop into the sooty and
untidy office where for more than a year Norris had been engaged in
manufacturing public opinion.

"Hello!" he cried as he opened the door. Then he stood transfixed at the
vision that met his sight, for a very blond and fuzzy head was bent over
Ellery's desk and a very startled pair of blue eyes was raised to meet
his own. There stood a rosebud dressed in gray. Is there anything more
demure and innocent than a pinky girl in a mousy gown? Dick's hat came
off and a deferential look replaced the careless one.

"Hello, yourself!" said Norris. "You announce yourself like a telephone
girl. Come in. What do you mean by troubling the quiet waters of my
daily toil?"

"I beg your pardon," said Dick politely. "If you are busy I--"

"That's all right. Miss Quincy and I can postpone our confab without
inconveniencing the order of the universe." Miss Quincy was already
gathering her notes, and she smiled at Dick in a half-shy way that said,
"I remember you very plainly." As she disappeared slowly down the hall,
Dick started after her.

"Great Scott, Ellery!" he ejaculated. "How you have lied to me about the
grubbiness of your work! If this is your daily grind, I don't mind
having a whirl at the editorial profession myself."

Norris laughed.

"It isn't the sum total of my duties," he said.