Flynn appeared soon.  He was handsome, well shaven and shorn, and he held himself smartly.  He also dressed well in a business suit which would not have disgraced the Lloyds.  His face lit up with astonishment and pleasure when he saw Ellen.  He bowed and greeted her in a rich voice.  He was of Irish descent but American born.  Both his motions and his speech were adorned with flourishes of grace which betrayed his race.  He placed a chair for Ellen with a sweep which would have been a credit to the stage.  All his actions had a slight exaggeration as of fresco painting, which seemed to fit them for a stage rather than a room, and for an audience rather than chance spectators.

“No, thank you,” replied Ellen.  Then she went straight to the matter in hand.  “I have called to see if I could get a job here?” she said.  She had been formulating her speech all the way thither.  Her first impulse was to ask for employment, but she was sure as to the manner in which a girl would ordinarily couch such a request.  So she asked for a job.

Flynn stared at her.  “A job?” he repeated.

“Yes, I want very much to get one,” replied Ellen.  “I thought there might be a vacancy.”

“Why, I thought—­” said the young man.  He was very much astonished, but his natural polish could rise above astonishment.  Instead of blurting out what was in his mind as to her change of prospects, he reasoned with incredible swiftness that the change must be a hard thing to this girl, and that she was to be handled the more tenderly and delicately because she was such a pretty girl.  He became twice as polite as before.  He moved the chair nearer to her.

“Please sit down,” he said.  He handed to her the wooden arm-chair as if it had been a throne.  Nellie Stone bent frowning over her day-book.

“Now let me see,” said the young man, seriously, with perfect deference of manner, only belied by the rollicking admiration in his eyes.  “You have never held a position in a factory before, I think?”

“No,” replied Ellen.

“There is at present only one vacancy that I can think of,” said Flynn, “and that does not pay very much, but there is always a chance to rise for a smart hand.  I am sure you will be that,” he added, smiling at her.

Ellen did not return the smile.  “I shall be contented to begin for a little, if there is a chance to rise,” she said.

“There’s a chance to rise to eighteen dollars a week,” said Flynn.  He smiled again, but it was like smiling at seriousness itself.  Ellen’s downright, searching eyes upon his face seemed almost to forbid the fact of her own girlish identity.

“What is the job you have for me?” said she.

“Tying strings in shoes,” answered Flynn.  “Easy enough, only child’s play, but you won’t earn more than three dollars a week to begin with.”

“I shall be quite satisfied with that,” said Ellen.  “When shall I come?”