She paused at the head bookkeeper's desk. The head bookkeeper was a
woman. Old Man Buck had learned something about the faithfulness of
women employees. The head bookkeeper looked up and said some
convincing things.

"Thanks," said Emma, in return. "It's mighty good to be here. Is it
true that skirts are going to be full in the back? How's business? T.
A. in?"

"Young T. A. is. But I think he's busy just now. You know T. A. Senior
isn't back yet. He had a tight squeeze, I guess. Everybody's talking
about the way young T. A. took hold. You know he spent years running
around Europe, and he made a specialty of first nights, and first
editions, and French cars when he did show up here. But now! He's
changed the advertising, and designing, and cutting departments around
here until there's as much difference between this place now and the
place it was three months ago as there is between a hoop-skirt and a
hobble. He designed one skirt--Here, Miss Kelly! Just go in and get
one of those embroidery flounce models for Mrs. McChesney. How's that?
Honestly, I'd wear it myself."

Emma McChesney held the garment in her two hands and looked it over
critically. Her eyes narrowed thoughtfully. She looked up to reply
when the door of T. A. Buck's private office opened, and Ed Meyers
walked briskly out. Emma McChesney put down the skirt and crossed the
office so that she and he met just in front of the little gate that
formed an entrance along the railing.

Ed Meyers' mouth twisted itself into a smile. He put out a welcoming
hand.