She went
in unceremoniously; it was one of her favorite visiting-places. Mr.
McAndrew looked up and gravely bowed.
"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."
"All right, hand over my nice, shiny little auto!" laughed the young
woman. "Honest, I'm in earnest, Uncle Em.
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