d out why she thinks she has to call on the
president of the Corrugated Trust, when she rolls them big dark eyes of
hers my way and remarks, in perfectly good United States: "Ah! A ray of
sunshine!"

It comes out so unexpected that for a second or so I just gawps at her,
and then I asks: "Referrin' to my hair?"

"Forgive me, young man," says she. "But it is such a cheerful shade."

"Yes'm," says I. "So I've been told. Some call it fire-hydrant red, but
I claim it's only super-pink."

"Anyway, I like it very much," says she. "I hope they don't call you
Reddy, though?"

"No, ma'am," says I. "Torchy."

"Why, how clever!" says she. "May I call you that, too? And I suppose
you are one of Mr. Ellins' assistants?"

"His private secretary," says I. "So you can see what luck he's playin'
in. Did you want to talk to him 'special, or is it anything I can fix up
for you?"

"It's rather personal, I'm afraid," says she. "The boy at the door
insisted that Mr. Ellins wasn't in, but I told him I didn't mind
waiting."

"That's nice," says I. "He'll be back in a week or so."

"Oh!" says she. "Then he went away before my note came?"

Which was where I begun to work up a hunch. Course, it's only a wild
suspicion at first. She don't fit the description at all. Still, if she
should be the one--I could feel the panicky shivers chasin' up and down
my backbone just at the thought. I expect my voice wavered a little as I
put the question.

"Say," says I, "you don't happen to be Bonnie Sutton, do you?"

That got a laugh out of her. It's no throaty, old-hen cackle, either.
It's clear and trilly.

"Thank you, Torchy," says she. "You've guessed it. But please tell me
how?"

"Why," says I, draggy, "I--er--you see----" And then I'm struck with
this foolish idea. Honest, I couldn't help pullin' it. "Mr. Ellins," I
goes on, "happened to show me your picture."

"What!" says she. "My picture? I--I can hardly believe it."

"Wait," says I. "It's right here in the drawer. That is, it was. Yep!
This one. There!"

And say, as I flashed that old photo on her I didn't have the nerve to
watch her face. You get me, don't you? If you'd changed as much as she
had how would you like to be stacked up sudden against a view of what
you was once? So I looked the other way. Must have been a minute or more
before I glanced around again. She was still starin' at the picture and
brushin' something off her eyelashes.

"Torchy," says she, "I could almo