"Tommy," remarked Miss Gladys Norman one day as Thompson entered her room through the glass-panelled door, "have you ever thought what I shall do fifty years hence?"

"Darn my socks," replied the practical Thompson.

"I mean," she proceeded with withering deliberation, "what will happen when I can't do the hundred in ten seconds?"

Thompson looked at her with a puzzled expression.

"My cousin Will says that if you can't do the hundred yards in ten seconds you haven't an earthly," she explained. "It's been worrying me. What am I to do when I'm old and rheumaticky and the Chief does three on the buzzer? He's bound to notice it and he'll look."

Malcolm Sage's "look" was a slight widening of the eyes as he gazed at a delinquent. It was his method of conveying rebuke. That "look" would cause Thompson to swear earnestly under his breath for the rest of the day, whilst on Gladys Norman it had several distinct effects, the biting of her lower lips, the snubbing of Thompson, the merciless banging of her typewriter, and a self-administered rebuke of "Gladys Norman, you're a silly little ass," being the most noticeable.

For a moment Thompson thought deeply, then with sudden inspiration he said, "Why not move your table nearer his door?"

"What a brain!" she cried, regarding him with mock admiration. "You must have been waving it with Hindes' curlers. Yes," she added, "you may take me out to dinner to-night, Tommy."

Thompson was in the act of waving his hat wildly over his head when Malcolm Sage came out of his room. For the fraction of a second he paused and regarded his subordinates.

"It's not another war, I hope," he remarked, and, without waiting for a reply, he turned, re-entered his room and closed the door.

Gladys Norman collapsed over her typewriter, where with heaving shoulders she strove to mute her mirth with a ridiculous dab of pink cambric.

Thompson looked crestfallen. He had turned just in time to see
Malcolm Sage re-enter his room.

Three sharp bursts on the buzzer brought Gladys Norman to her feet. There was a flurry of skirt, the flash of a pair of shapely ankles, and she disappeared into Malcolm Sage's room.