But I laughed at her, encouraging her for all I was worth, until we reached the third floor and the clerk's outer office of Messrs. Chesterton, Brown, Jones, and Robinson. I knocked. Million drew a breath that made the pin-on tie surge up and down upon the breast of her Jap silk blouse. She was pulling herself together, I knew, taking her courage in both hands. The door was opened by a weedy-looking youth of about eighteen. "Good morning, Mr. Chesterton. Hope I'm not late," Million greeted him in a sudden, loud, aggressive voice that I had never heard from her before; the voice of nervousness risen to panic. "I've come about that money of mine from my uncle in----" "Name, Miss, please?" said the weedy youth. "Nellie Mary Million----" "Miss Million," I amended. "We have an appointment with Mr. Chesterton." "Mr. Chesterton hasn't come yet," said the weedy youth. "Kindly take a seat in here." He went into the inner office. I sat down. Million, far too nervous to sit down, wandered about the waiting-room. "My, it doesn't half want cleaning in here," she remarked in a flurried whisper, looking about her. "Why, the boy hasn't even taken down yesterday's teacups. I wonder how often they get a woman in. Look at those cobwebs! A shaving-mirror--well, I never!" She breathed on it, polishing it with her black moirette reticule. "Some notice here about 'Courts,' Miss Beatrice. Don't it make you feel as if you was in the dock? I wonder what they keep in this little corner-cupboard." "The handcuffs, I expect. No, no, Million, you mustn't look at them." Here the weedy youth put in his head again. CHAPTER IV THE LAWYER'S DILEMMA "STEP this way, please," he said. With an imploring "You go first, Miss," from the heiress we "stepped" into the inner office. It was a big, handsomely carpeted room, with leather chairs. Around the walls were shelves with black-japanned deed-boxes bearing white-lettered names. I saw little Million's eyes fly to these boxes. I know what she was wildly thinking--that one must be hers and must contain the million dollars of her new fortune. Beside the large cleared desk there was standing a fatherly looking old gentleman. He had white hair, a shrewd, humorous, clean-shaven face, and gold-rimmed glasses. He turned, with a very pleasant smile, to me. "Good morning, Miss Million," he said. "I am very glad to have the----" "This is Miss Million," I told him, putting my hand on her brown sleeve and giving her arm a little, heartening pat. Million moistened her lips and drew another long breath as the fatherly old gentleman turned the eyes and their gold-rimmed glasses upon her small, diffident self. "Ah! M'm--really! Of course! How do you do, Miss Million?" "Nicely--nicely, thanks!" breathed Million huskily. "Won't you sit down, ladies? Yes. Now, Miss Million----"