that?"

"But see here, Mr. Robert," says I, "I wa'n't plannin' any masquerade,
either."

"Quite so," says he; "nor I. It so happens, though, that the gentleman
whose name appears as president of our Mutual Funding Company is--well,
hardly in active business life. It is necessary that he be represented
here in some nominal capacity. The directors are now meeting in Room 19.
I have authority to name a private secretary pro tem. Do you accept the
position?"

"With a pro-tem. salary, stage money barred?" says I.

"Oh, most certainly," says he.

"Then I'm the guy," says I.

"Good!" says Mr. Robert. "These debentures come in your department. I
will notify Mr. Piddie that----"

"Say, Mr. Robert," says I, grinnin' once more, "I'd break it gentle to
Piddie."

I don't know whether he did or not; for five minutes after that Heiny
has my old seat, and I'm inside behind the ground-glass door, sittin' at
a reg'lar roll-top, with a lot of file cases spread out, puzzlin' over
this incorporation junk that makes the Fundin' Comp'ny the little joker
in the Corrugated deck.

And next thing I know in comes Heiny, gawpin' foolish, and trailin'
behind him Aunty and Vee. I wa'n't throwin' any bluff about tryin' to
look busy, either. I was elbow-deep in papers, with a pen behind one ear
and ink on three fingers.

You should have heard the gasp that comes from Aunty as she pipes off
who it is at the desk. My surprise as I'm discovered is the real thing
too.

"Chairs, Boy!" says I, snappin' my fingers at Heiny.

But Aunty catches her breath, draws herself up stiff, and waves away the
seats. "Young man," says she, "I came here to consult with Mr. Robert
Ellins about----"

"Yes'm," says I, "I understand. Debenture six's, ain't they? Not
affected by the reorganization, Ma'am. You see, it's like this: Those
bonds were issued in exchange for----"

"Young man," she breaks in, aimin' her lorgnette at me threatenin', "I
prefer to discuss this matter with Mr. Robert."

"Sorry," says I, "but as he's very busy he asked me to----"

"And who, pray," snaps the old girl, "are you?"

"Representin' the president of the Mutual Funding Comp'ny," says I.

"Just how?" she demands.

"Private secretary, Ma'am," says I.

"Humph!" she snorts. "This is too absurd of Mr. Robert--wholly absurd!
Come, Verona."

And as she sails out I just has time for a glance at Vee, and catches a
wink. Believe me, though, a friendly wink from one of them gray e