“Was it you askin’ for Mr. Mason?” says I, beginnin’ to suspect that Vincent had made a mistake, after all.

“Yes indeed, suh,” says she, sort of soft and slurry.  “Ahm th’ one.  You jess tell him Valentina Tozier’s out hea-uh.  He’ll know.”

“Oh, will he?” says I, a bit sarcastic.  “Sorry, Valentina, but I couldn’t think of disturbin’ Mr. Mason now.  Maybe you don’t know it, but he’s a mighty busy man.”

“Well, there!” says she.  “Think of that!”

Then I knew why it was Vincent had taken a chance on crashin’ into a directors’ meetin’.  He’d been hypnotized by Miss Tozier’s smile.  It ain’t any common open-faced movement, believe me.  It’s about the friendliest, most natural heart-to-heart smile I ever got in range of.  And, somehow, it seems to come mostly from the eyes; a chummy, confidential, trustin’ smile that sparkles with good faith and good nature, and kind of thrills you with the feelin’ that you must be a lot better’n you ever suspected.  Honest, after one application I forgets the queer rig she has on, the mud-colored hair, and the way her chest slumps in.  Whoever she might be and whatever she might want, I’m strong for givin’ her the helpin’ hand.  If I could have gone in and led old K. W. out by the arm, I’d have done it.  But you couldn’t have pulled him away from that Board scrap with a donkey-engine.  He was unloadin’ a ten months’ grouch against some of Old Hickory’s pet policies, Mr. Mason was, and he was enjoyin’ himself huge, even if he did know he was due to be steam-rollered when the vote was taken.

“See here, Miss Tozier,” says I, “it wouldn’t do you a bit of good to see Mr. Mason now.  He’s all lathered up and frothin’ at the mouth.  But in an hour or so he’ll be calmed down, maybe before.  I tell you what; you stroll out and take in the store windows for a spell and then drift back later.  Come up here if you like, or you can wait in the arcade and nail him as he comes down the elevator.”

She thanks me real folksy, pats Vincent on the shoulder, and starts for the corridor with a long, easy swing that some of these barefoot poem dancers couldn’t execute to save their necks.

“Huh!” says I to Vincent.  “Put the spell on us, didn’t she?”

All through the rest of that messy session I’d glance now and then at K. W. and wonder where and how he ever happened to meet up with Valentina.  I was meanin’ to pass him the word how she was waitin’ to see him; but after he’d registered his big howl, and Old Hickory had first smeared him and then soothed him down, he left so sudden that I didn’t have a chance.

Besides, I was some rushed myself.  There was a lot of odds and ends to be tied up after the meetin’, and two or three of them resolutions that was jammed through called for quick action early next day.  That’s what kept me and Piddie and Mr. Robert doin’ so much overtime.  About six o’clock we had coffee and sandwiches sent in, and it must have been well after seven before we locked the big safes and called it a day.  Piddie had already beat it to catch a late train to Jersey, so there was only the two of us that dodged the scrubwomen on our way down to the street.