What if it should stop suddenly between floors? There was a beautiful girl standing next to Wilbur and he thought how fear would flood her face. That was the time when a cool and confident voice could avert panic. But Wilbur was aware that there was more chance that the voice would be the girl's rather than his. His mind went back to the last line of the ditty he had been composing. He almost had it, then it was gone. He bit down on his tongue in concentration, unaware that he was staring at the girl next to him. "My devotion you'll always own," Wilbur murmured. "On such short acquaintance?" the girl smiled. * * * * * Wilbur turned pink, then red. He wanted to tell her he hadn't meant it that way, and he found himself wishing he had. She was the kind of girl he sometimes dreamed about, tall and not too thin, with golden hair and gray eyes in which flecks of color danced. "I meant my mother," Wilbur managed at last. "How sweet. Now would you mind getting out of my way?" Wilbur looked down and found that he had somehow managed to walk from the elevator to his office without knowing it. He had his hand on the doorknob. "I beg your pardon," he mumbled, and flung the door open in what he hoped was a gallant gesture. There was a crash as the door swung inward for a few feet and stopped. The crash was immediately followed by a howl of pain. A moment later Pete Bellows' flushed and furious face came around the side of the door. He was rubbing his head. "Mook, you idiot!" Bellows roared. "I ought to punch your nose for this!" "He didn't know your head was in the way," the girl said. "Huh?" Bellows grunted. He took a good look at the girl and the anger drained from his face. Without thinking he straightened his tie and slicked back his oily black hair. "You must be Miss Burnett, the girl the agency said they were sending," Bellows murmured in his most dulcet tones. "Well, well, Wilbur, this is my new secretary." "But how do you know I'll do?" Miss Burnett said, startled. "Oh, you'll do. I just know you will," Bellows told her. "You and I are going to get along just dandy." "My shorthand is a little rusty," the girl said. "What's a little thing like that?" Bellows laughed, ignoring the fact that he had fired his last secretary because she had misspelled an eight-syllable word. But the last secretary had worn thick glasses, Wilbur recalled. That would make a difference to Pete Bellows. He was suddenly aware that Bellows was frowning at him. "Get to work, Mook," Bellows said cheerfully. "Mother's Day is coming, you know." With what he pretended was a gentle pat on the back Bellows flung Wilbur toward the tiny cubicle he occupied at the rear of the large office. Once Bellows had played tackle on a football team and although he was beefier now he was still very strong. Wilbur almost went through the thin partition.