Some unpleasant information.

Faith’s face turned scarlet, but she obeyed at once.  The next instant the buyer was forgotten.  She was thinking of Miss Jennings.

So the superintendent had not carried out his threat after all.  He could not have forgotten it, his anger had been too genuine.

Faith was thankful enough that the poor girl was still at work, although she looked sick enough to be in bed in the care of a doctor.

As Faith looked at her she could see plainly the stamp of death upon her brow.  Her cheeks were bloodless and her eyes were sunken.

After eleven o’clock the girls took turns in going to their luncheons.  Some repaired to the basement lunch room, while others who could afford it patronized the nearby restaurants.

It was a pleasant surprise to Faith when Miss Jennings joined her in the lunch room.  She had a paper bag in her hand, while Faith carried a small basket.

Almost instinctively the two girls drew away from the others.  There was a bond of sympathy between them that they could not account for.

“Do tell me your name,” whispered Miss Jennings at once.  “It does sound so ‘shoppy’ to be always saying ‘packer.’”

She had opened her bag and taken out a cracker.  It was evident that there was no time to be wasted in lunching.

“Call me Faith, if you will.  I should like to have you so much!  I think it will make me feel a little less strange,” was the impulsive answer.

“I will if you’ll call me Mary,” replied Miss Jennings.  “I’ve just been longing to talk to you all the morning, but there’s no dodging Miss Fairbanks’ eye; it’s always upon you.”

“Are we not supposed to speak at all?” asked Faith, who was forgetting to eat her luncheon.

“Oh, yes, we can speak, but not if there are customers waiting.  But, tell me, how do you happen to be a packer?  You are too old for that kind of work, and quite too clever, I’m sure,” said Miss Jennings kindly.

Faith told her how difficult it had been to get any position at all, but she did not dream of telling her how closely her name and work had been connected with the matter.

When she spoke of Mr. Forbes, Miss Jennings fairly shuddered.

“He’s a terrible brute,” she said in a nervous whisper.  “And what do you think, Faith; he’s a Sunday-school teacher!”

“Oh no, it can’t be!”

Faith caught her breath with a shiver.

“I mean, it doesn’t seem possible,” she added after a minute.

“Yes, he is,” reiterated Miss Jennings soberly.

“I used to go to the same church.  Now I don’t go to any—­I have no use for religion!”

She started coughing, and this gave Faith an opportunity to recover from the shock.  When the spasm was over she put her arms affectionately over Miss Jennings’ shoulder.

“What has turned you against religion, dear?” she asked very softly.  “Is it such men as Mr. Forbes, or just the bitterness from misfortune?”