Faith felt her cheeks grow hot at this arrogant insult, but Miss Jennings replied as quietly as ever, “I cannot give you the same shade nor the same width exactly, madam.  This is the nearest I have.”

She handed her a roll that was a little different from the sample.

“But you must have it!  Look again!” commanded the woman, angrily.  “You are just trying to save yourself trouble, you lazy hussy!”

Miss Jennings turned very indifferently and called to another of the saleswomen: 

“Miss Jones, have we any number twelve lemon in reserve?  Here’s a sample, and this lady is anxious to match it.”

Miss Jones glanced at the sample that Miss Jennings was holding.

“You know very well that we are all out of that,” she replied, sharply.  “How often have I told you not to bother me with such questions!”

Miss Jennings handed the sample to the customer without the slightest trace of emotion.

“The ‘head of stock’ says we have none.  I trust you will believe her, madam.”

The woman snatched her sample and hurried away, while Miss Jennings went to another customer as calmly as though nothing had happened.

Faith drew a long breath.  Her cheeks were fairly tingling.  She glanced about a little to see whether any one else had noticed the transaction.

The clerks were all moving about in their automatic way.  It was plain that such occurrences as this amounted to nothing.

Suddenly Faith’s glance rested on a young man who was standing in the aisle where he could watch her every movement.

As their eyes met he raised his hat and smiled at her brazenly.

Faith gasped for breath.  Her insulter was young Denton.

CHAPTER VI.

Faith discovers A fresh horror.

Faith dropped her eyes to her desk so that she would not see the fellow, but she could still feel the insulting gaze that was bent upon her.

She was glad when a great crowd of shoppers came surging in at the big doors, for the afternoons were always far busier than the mornings at this establishment.

Faith soon began to wonder if the goods could possibly come up to be wrapped very much faster.  Her arms as well as her back were aching.  The clerks were screaming for cash girls every other minute, for besides the packer above each counter there were a number of others at different points throughout the store and all were as busy as bees through the rush hours.

“There’s no rest for the weary.”

It was Miss Jennings who spoke.  She was talking to a customer, a fine-looking old lady.

“I expect there isn’t, dear,” said the lady, pleasantly.  “And you do look fagged out—­I declare if you don’t.  I hope you get good pay for standing all day behind this counter!”

Miss Jennings laughed in her harsh, dry way.