“Oh, here you are,” said a voice at her side.

She turned and was delighted to see Miss Jennings.

“How pale you look, Mary!  Did you tire yourself too much last night?” she asked quickly.  “Really dear, you should have stayed at home.  You are sick abed this very minute!”

“That would mean a dollar, my dear Faith,” said Miss Jennings sharply.  “I’ve lost three already this month so far and as I’m liable to need a coffin soon I must keep at work and earn it!”

“Don’t, Mary!” cried Faith, in genuine distress.  “Don’t joke about such things, dear.  I can’t bear to hear you.”

“As well laugh as cry,” said Miss Jennings shortly; “but I hear that Jack Forbes is dead.  I’m in hopes the firm will show proper decency by giving us a holiday.”

“Oh, they’ll do that all right, if it is only for the looks of the thing,” cried one of the girls who had overheard her.  “You can trust them to keep up appearances before the public, even if they dock us a day’s pay in order to square it.”

“They would never do that!” cried Faith in dismay.

“They’d do it if they dared,” was the answer; “they are not above it.”

“There is Mr. Gibson now,” whispered another girl as the form of the manager appeared in the doorway.

“The store will be closed to-morrow,” he said, shortly, “so you girls want to be smart and make all the sales you can to-day.  Remember that you are expected to do your best in such emergencies.”

As he went away the clerks all looked at each other.

“That sounded just like Forbes himself,” giggled one of the girls.  “I’ll bet ten dollars he sent down that message.”

“Well, we all get a day off anyway,” said another, “and for my part I’m glad to laugh once while Old Forbes is crying.  The shoe is on the other foot generally and we girls do the weeping.”

“I wonder if that detective will annoy me to-day,” whispered Faith to her friend.  She had already told her of the proposition which Hardy had made to her.

“I wonder who the fellow is who has got his eye on you,” said Miss Jennings, soberly.  “It’s the same old story.  They think because we are poor that we are to be bought and sold like puppets.  You’d be surprised, Faith, to know how men look upon us girls, but never mind about it, dear; Hardy can’t do anything until the superintendent comes back, and by that time Mr. Watkins may have found the money.”

“Who is Mr. Watkins?” asked Faith, who had quite forgotten the young man.

“He’s the superintendent’s lackey, but they call him an assistant,” said Miss Jennings, with a slight blush.  “He’s a remarkably fine young man who would be honest if he could, but, poor soul, he’s like the rest of us—­tied hand and foot!  If he expresses an honest opinion, out he goes into the street, and that means that not only himself but his mother would starve.”

“I remember him now,” said Faith; “he was in the superintendent’s office when I applied for my position.  I liked his looks; he seemed refined and honest.  I wish I could help him, but—­Oh, Mary, what’s the matter?”