"My cue," said Emma McChesney, with a weary brightness, "to say, 'Let
me pass, sir!'"

"Please don't," pleaded T. A. Junior. "I'll remember this the rest of
my life. I thought I was a statue of modern business methods, but
after to-day I'm going to ask the office boy to help me run this
thing. If I could only think of some special way to apologize to you--
"

"Oh, it's all right," said Emma McChesney indifferently.

"But it isn't! It isn't! You don't understand. That human jellyfish of
a Meyers said some things, and I thought I'd be clever and prove them.
I can't ask your pardon. There aren't words enough in the language.
Why, you're the finest little woman--you're--you'd restore the faith
of a cynic who had chronic indigestion. I wish I--Say, let me relieve
you of a couple of those small towns that you hate to make, and give
you Cleveland and Cincinnati. And let me--Why say, Mrs. McChesney!
Please! Don't! This isn't the time to--"

"I can't help it," sobbed Emma McChesney, her two hands before her
face. "I'll stop in a minute. There; I'm stopping now. For Heaven's
sake, stop patting me on the head!"

"Please don't be so decent to me," entreated T. A. Junior, his fine
eyes more luminous than ever." If only you'd try to get back at me I
wouldn't feel so cut up about it." Emma McChesney looked up at him, a
smile shining radiantly through the tears. "Very well. I'll do it.
Just before I came in they showed me that new embroidery flounced
model you just designed. Maybe you don't know it, but women wear only