A few customers coming in cut short the conversation, and as Maggie Brady was absent the department was short-handed, as usual, so that there was only an odd minute or two for idling.

“I wonder if Miss Brady is ill?” said Faith as she squeezed by Miss Jones in the narrow space behind the counter.

“It will go hard with her if she doesn’t show up pretty soon,” was the answer, “for between you and me, I believe Gunning hates her.”

“Oh, these dreadful hatreds,” said Faith, with a sigh.  “Poor Miss Brady looks so wretched.  I don’t see how any one can hate her.”

“Well, you see, she was engaged to Gunning once, and she might better have married him than to have thrown herself away on Jim Denton.”

Cash girl Number 83 came up as she spoke.  She was the girl who had first told Faith that Mr. Watkins was very ill and in the hospital, and it was evident by her manner that she had something else to tell her.

“What is it, 83?” asked Faith, expectantly.  “Have you heard any news of Mr. Watkins’ condition?”

“Yes, and I’ve heard more’n that,” said the little girl quickly, “but I won’t spring it all on you at once, for it might shock you, Miss Marvin.”

Faith was puzzled at her words, but she tried to restrain her eagerness until the girl had given a package to a customer and come back to the counter.

“Mr. Watkins is better—­lots better,” she said, gayly.  “They say the boss has been to see him in his howling swell carriage, and they’ve fixed up the matter about the money all right; they must have, because Sammy Watkins is back in his old position.”

“Oh, that is lovely,” cried Faith, clasping her hands together.

“Well, the rest ain’t so lovely!” said the cash girl, grinning, “for I saw Mag Brady on the street last night.  She was drunk as a toper, and she says she’s a-goin’ to ‘do’ you!”

“What!” gasped Faith, in astonishment as the cash girl finished, “Miss Brady intoxicated!  You surely don’t mean it?”

“Oh, don’t I?” said the child, with a worldly leer.  “I mean lots more than that, only I’m too nice to say it.”

She walked away to answer another call while Faith stared first at Miss Fairbanks and then at Miss Jones.  Both had heard the words yet they were laughing at her amazement.

“You are easily shocked,” said Miss Fairbanks, with a shrug.  “Why, any one with half an eye could see that Mag Brady loves whiskey.”

“That’s another thing that Jim Denton taught her,” said Miss Jones indifferently.  “Why, I knew Mag Brady when she was as innocent as you are.”

“But can nothing be done to reclaim her?” asked Faith, eagerly.  “You say you knew her when she was different, Miss Jones; have you ever tried to save her from ruin?”

“I mind my own business,” said Miss Jones, haughtily, “and I find that is all I can possibly do.  Mag Brady must save herself if she wants to be saved, but, between you and me, I don’t think she wants to.”