learning that most of the pretty speeches went with puppets who could not feel.
Bland and Max came in from a brisk walk on the veranda. The mayor of Reuton, who had been dozing near the desk, stirred.
"Great air up here," remarked Mr. Max, rubbing his hands before the fire. "Ought to be pumped down into the region of the white lights. It sure would stir things up."
"It would put out the lights at ten p. m. answered Mr. Magee, "and inculcate other wholesome habits of living disastrous to the restaurant impresarios."
Miss Norton rose and ascended the stairs. Still the protesting Magee was at her heels. At the head of the stair she turned.
"You shall have your final chance," she said. "The mayor, Max and Bland are alone in the office. I don't approve of eavesdropping at Baldpate in the summer—it has spoiled a lot of perfectly adorable engagements. But in winter it's different. Whether you really want to help me or not I'm sure I don't know, but if you do, the conversation below now might prove of interest."
