The girl had really been moved. "I can't," she said, "because--" She got out her powder puff and proceeded hastily to decorate her nose. She was still engaged in this operation when the telephone rang. Grogan started. "What's that?" he demanded. "Why, it's only the telephone. What is the matter with you, Mr. Grogan?" "I dunno," responded Grogan despondently, "I'm as nervous as a girl in a peek-a-boo waist." The telephone rang again. "Why don't you answer that?" demanded Grogan sharply. "I will," replied the girl, "but there's no great rush, is there?" "Yes there is," insisted Grogan, "I can't bear the suspense." The young woman laughed and picked up the receiver. "Lake City Electrical Company," she said. "What? Who is it, please." Grogan, who had continued pacing up and down the office, stopped and made wild gestures to Miss Masters. Covering the mouthpiece of the instrument so she would not be heard, the girl asked. "What is it, Mr. Grogan?" "Whist!" replied Grogan, "If that is Mary Randall on the wire there, I've gone to Alaska. I've given all me money away and I'm living on snow balls." Miss Masters smiled and replied with assurance: "This isn't Mary Randall." "Thank God for that," breathed Grogan. "Hello," went on Miss Masters into the telephone. "Oh, you're long distance? Well?" There was a pause. "I'm sorry, but Mr. Harry Boland hasn't come downtown yet." "He may be in any moment--shall I--" She broke off sharply as Harry himself came in the door drawing off his gloves. "Wait! Just a moment please," she went on. "He has just come in." "Someone for me, Miss Masters?" the young man inquired, hanging up his hat on a rack by the door. Without waiting for a reply he turned to Grogan. "Good morning, Mike." "'Tis a fine day--I hope," returned Grogan cautiously. "Yes, someone calling you, Mr. Boland," broke in Miss Masters. "Don't want to talk to anyone," said the young man curtly. "Hello, hello," continued Miss Masters at the telephone. "Hello, long distance? Mr. Boland is too busy--" "Wait, please," interrupted Harry quickly, "did you say 'long distance?'" Miss Masters nodded. "Just a moment," she said into the telephone. "Yes, Mr. Boland," she said. "It's a long distance. Some one wants to talk to you in--Millville, Illinois." CHAPTER XII BAD NEWS FROM MILLVILLE The word Millville had an instantaneous effect on Harry Boland. It was, in fact, the most pleasant sound he had heard in days. Upon returning to Chicago after his lover-like interview with Patience Welcome he had dispatched a long letter to her. To this he had received no reply. Then he wrote two letters in one day. Neither of them had been answered. Thoroughly disturbed now, but too busy to leave Chicago himself, Harry had sent his confidential man, John Clark, to Millville to learn, if possible, the cause of Patience's silence.