desk. Mr. Talbott twinkled over to the desk, picked up the package and came back to Speedy. Could it be that the austere executive was blushing? He cleared his throat.
"I am going to ask you to do an important private errand for me, Swift," said the office manager in a lowered voice, as if he feared a score of ears were listening. "I—er—want you to deliver these flowers to a lady at the Hotel Envoy. The card is attached to the package here. Be very careful of them and be very prompt. They must be at the Envoy in fifteen minutes. The lady is leaving town. See that the flowers aren't crushed in the subway. Now—remember—fifteen minutes. I shall be calling the lady on the telephone at the end of that time. If those flowers haven't arrived, there'll be trouble—for you!"
"Yes, sir," grinned Speedy.
"Since it is already after four o'clock, you will not be performing a private service for me on the company's time," argued Mr. Talbott primly, seeking to absolve himself of any accusation of frivolity. "And here is five cents for your subway fare."
"Don't worry, Mr. Talbott, I'll be there on time," assured Speedy. What sort of a lady could it be that this old fossil could be sending flowers to or who would be sore if they didn't arrive, Speedy asked himself.
He accepted the package and was off for the elevator like a Pony Express rider.
But when he reached the sidewalk, though his pace was rapid through the pedestrians, Speedy's mind
