“No; we merely take advantage of their wretched conditions to secure their services cheap,” said Mr. Denton bitterly; “then instead of bettering their lot we grind them lower and lower, until at last they die either forgiving or cursing us.”

There was another silence more oppressive than the first; then Mr. Day rose slowly and started to leave the office.

“We are exciting ourselves foolishly, I think,” he said loftily; “neither you nor I, my partners, can hope to remedy the conditions of labor.”

He closed the door softly, and was free from the unpleasant atmosphere of the office.

As he did so, a young girl stepped out of the elevator and walked directly to the door which he had just closed behind him.  He turned and looked at her—­she was as a saint.  Almost instinctively it came to him what his partner had said, that she was “not afraid of work and was honestly religious.”

“Pshaw!  What nonsense!” he muttered.  “Think of our patterning after a saint!  It is strange how death will upset some men, but they’ll get over it when they hear the money jingling!”

He opened the door to his private office just as a boy came upstairs with a message from Mr. Gibson.

“Mr. Watkins was taken to the hospital last night,” it read; “are we expected to do anything?  There’s a reporter from the Herald.”

“I’ll send down the answer in a moment,” he said to the boy, “or, wait; tell Mr. Gibson to say that we are looking into the case, and if our employee is found to be deserving he will be cared for by the firm.  The reporter can call again if he wishes anything further.”

With the note in his hand he went back to the superintendent’s office.

CHAPTER XVIII.

Faith becomes an object of jealousy.

As Mr. Day opened the office door with the message in his hand, he hesitated for a moment, in something like bewilderment.

Faith Marvin was standing before his partners with a paper in her hand, and just as he entered she was speaking eagerly.  “We would be so thankful if you would do this, gentlemen—­even for half a day, if you cannot spare a whole one.  You see, poor Miss Jennings has no family, only a crippled brother, so we clerks are really her brothers and sisters.  She was a dear, good girl; so patient and resigned.  If we could lay her in the grave ourselves it would be a sweet and solemn pleasure.”

She turned from one of the men to the other with her appealing glance, even including Mr. Day as he stood irresolute upon the threshold.

Mr. Forbes was the first to recover his voice.  The girl’s appearance and the petition had made them both dumb for a minute.

“It can’t be done, Miss Marvin,” he said, curtly.  “It would be establishing a precedent; isn’t it so, Mr. Denton?”

“But surely, Mr. Forbes, such a precedent would do no harm!” cried Faith quickly.  “Poor Mary is the first clerk who has died in the store, you know.  It isn’t at all likely that there will be any others.”