"Take a seat, madam, and I will be at liberty in a few moments," he
began politely. But "Madam's" small, white hand, placed over his lips,
interrupted. "You are at liberty now--this minute, Uncle Em!" said
Gloria.

The man at the desk shrugged his shoulders, then, helping her to a
comfortable seat on the arm-chair, said:

"All right. What is it, Rosy Posie?"

"Uncle Em, am I rich?"

"Er--what's that? Oh, well," judiciously, "you'll do."

"Very rich? How rich, Uncle Em?"

The big swing-chair revolved with rapidity, to the peril of the young
lady on its arm. The face of Walter McAndrew, Attorney-at-Law, expressed
surprise.

"What's the drive?" he asked.

"That's what I want to know. How am I to drive? Uncle Em, see here. I
want a runabout--wait, please wait! A nice, shiny runabout, that I can
'run' myself. I'll take you some of the time. Now, when can I have it?"

"You talk as if I had one concealed about me somewhere, and could
produce it at a moment's notice."