Lena's Progress

"Who is Hebe?" asked Dick.

"Well, she's rather a problem," Ellery replied. "I believe she appeared
a few weeks ago at Miss Huntress' office--the woman editor, you
know--with a catchy little article on fashions. It happened that the
boss was in the office, and we consider it rather a grind on him, for he
was much taken by either the article or the eyes, and she got a little
job as a sort of reportorial maid-of-all-work. Funny, isn't it? If a
man is buying a rug, he wouldn't think of deciding on it because it was
green, without testing its wearing qualities; but in nine cases out of
ten a girl gets chosen because of her eyes. That's all I know about her.
Pretty, isn't she?"

"Pretty! Is that all the command you have of your native language? You
ought to lose your job for that. Why she's--never mind--I haven't time
now."

"Neither have I," answered Norris sharply. He remembered that long ago
Dick had called Madeline pretty. It is a cheap and easy word. "I haven't
time for you, either. Will you go away; or will you keep still while I
finish this work?"

"Waltz away." Dick sat down on the window-sill and fell into a
meditative state of mind. Once or twice he walked to the door and looked
down the hall, while Norris plugged steadily away and ignored the
presence of his friend.

After a prolonged silence, Dick spoke again, solemnly: "I should like to meet her."

"Whom?"

"Miss--Quincy, did you call her?"