Meantime, wandering in the hallway, Hal had encountered Milly Neal.

"Are you very busy, Miss Neal?" he asked.

"Not more than usual," she answered, regarding him with bright and
kindly eyes. "Did you want me?"

"Yes. I want to know some things about this business."

"Outside of my own department, I don't know much."

"Well; inside your own department, then. May I ask some questions?"

With a businesslike air she consulted a tiny watch, then glanced toward
a settee at the end of the hall. "I'll give you ten minutes," she
announced. "Suppose we sit down over there."

"Do the writers of those letters--symp-letters, I believe, you call
them--" he began; "do they seem to get benefit out of the advice
returned?"

"What advice? To take Certina? Why, yes. Most of 'em come back for
more."

"You think it good medicine for all that long list of troubles?"

The girl's eyes opened wide. "Of course it's a good medicine!" she
cried. "Do you think the Chief would make any other kind?"

"No; certainly not," he hastened to disclaim. "But it seems like a wide