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{{betlep196.png}} || betty lee, junior ||


spot for his desk,” he said whimsically, as with
a resigned expression he jumped up and an-
swered the bell himself.

“You shall, my dear,” replied his wife, as he
disappeared into the hallway. Betty and Mrs.
Lee were in the dining room, a little back from
the double doors, or rather draped opening
which separated the living room from the din-
ing room. The dining table was spread with
papers and covered with scraps from the “rag-~
bag”
except where half a dozen tiny wooden
shoes stood ready to be filled with the small
pin-cushions which Mrs. Lee and Betty were
making. Betty was enjoying it. It was so nice
to have an afternoon at home just to “fiddle
around”
and do what you felt like doing. This
wasn't work!

But from where Betty sat, she had a good
look at a gentleman whom her father was ush-
ering into the front room. Or was he a gentle-
man? Betty had a momentary impression of a
very ordinary looking man, dark, fairly well-~
dressed but not well set up, as Betty thought.
His shoulders were a little stooped and he gave
a furtive look through the curtains that fell at
the side of the open doorway.

But he began to speak in a suave way, “oily,”
Betty called it afterwards:


[[196]]


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