The following Monday Miss Ottway overtook her, at noon, on the stairs.

“Janet, I wanted to speak to you, to tell you I’m leaving,” she said.

“Leaving!” repeated Janet, who had regarded Miss Ottway as a fixture.

“I’m going to Boston,” Miss Ottway explained, in her deep, musical voice.  “I’ve always wanted to go, I have an unmarried sister there of whom I’m very fond, and Mr. Ditmar knows that.  He’s got me a place with the Treasurer, Mr. Semple.”

“Oh, I’m sorry you’re going, though of course I’m glad for you,” Janet said sincerely, for she liked and respected Miss Ottway, and was conscious in the older woman of a certain kindly interest.

“Janet, I’ve recommended you to Mr. Ditmar for my place.”

“Oh!” cried Janet, faintly.

“It was he who asked about you, he thinks you are reliable and quick and clever, and I was very glad to say a good word for you, my dear, since I could honestly do so.”  Miss Ottway drew Janet’s arm through hers and patted it affectionately.  “Of course you’ll have to expect some jealousy, there are older women in the other offices who will think they ought to have the place, but if you attend to your own affairs, as you always have done, there won’t be any trouble.”

“Oh, I won’t take the place, I can’t!” Janet cried, so passionately that Miss Ottway looked at her in surprise.  “I’m awfully grateful to you,” she added, flushing crimson, “I—­I’m afraid I’m not equal to it.”

“Nonsense,” said the other with decision.  “You’d be very foolish not to try it.  You won’t get as much as I do, at first, at any rate, but a little more money won’t be unwelcome, I guess.  Mr. Ditmar will speak to you this afternoon.  I leave on Saturday.  I’m real glad to do you a good turn, Janet, and I know you’ll get along,” Miss Ottway added impulsively as they parted at the corner of Faber Street.  “I’ve always thought a good deal of you.”

For awhile Janet stood still, staring after the sturdy figure of her friend, heedless of the noonday crowd that bumped her.  Then she went to Grady’s Quick Lunch Counter and ordered a sandwich and a glass of milk, which she consumed slowly, profoundly sunk in thought.  Presently Eda Rawle arrived, and noticing her preoccupation, inquired what was the matter.

“Nothing,” said Janet....

At two o’clock, when Ditmar returned to the office, he called Miss Ottway, who presently came out to summon Janet to his presence.  Fresh, immaculate, yet virile in his light suit and silk shirt with red stripes, he was seated at his desk engaged in turning over some papers in a drawer.  He kept her waiting a moment, and then said, with apparent casualness:—­“Is that you, Miss Bumpus?  Would you mind closing the door?”