Elsie hurried away after thanking Miss Ticklebaum for her timely warning and advice.  After all, it seemed that she must try to find Mr. Otter.

But after walking a few blocks she saw a sign, “Cashier wanted,” in the window of a confectionery store.  In she went and applied for the place, after casting a quick glance over her shoulder to assure herself that the job-preventer was not on her trail.

The proprietor of the confectionery was a benevolent old man with a peppermint flavor, who decided, after questioning Elsie pretty closely, that she was the very girl he wanted.  Her services were needed at once, so Elsie, with a thankful heart, drew off her tan coat and prepared to mount the cashier’s stool.

But before she could do so a gaunt lady wearing steel spectacles and black mittens stood before her, with a long finger pointing, and exclaimed:  “Young woman, hesitate!”

Elsie hesitated.

“Do you know,” said the black-and-steel lady, “that in accepting this position you may this day cause the loss of a hundred lives in agonizing physical torture and the sending as many souls to perdition?”

“Why, no,” said Elsie, in frightened tones.  “How could I do that?”

“Ruin,” said the lady—­“the demon rum.  Do you know why so many lives are lost when a theatre catches fire?  Brandy balls.  The demon rum lurking in brandy balls.  Our society women while in theatres sit grossly intoxicated from eating these candies filled with brandy.  When the fire fiend sweeps down upon them they are unable to escape.  The candy stores are the devil’s distilleries.  If you assist in the distribution of these insidious confections you assist in the destruction of the bodies and souls of your fellow-beings, and in the filling of our jails, asylums and almshouses.  Think, girl, ere you touch the money for which brandy balls are sold.”

“Dear me,” said Elsie, bewildered.  “I didn’t know there was rum in brandy balls.  But I must live by some means.  What shall I do?”

“Decline the position,” said the lady, “and come with me.  I will tell you what to do.”

After Elsie had told the confectioner that she had changed her mind about the cashiership she put on her coat and followed the lady to the sidewalk, where awaited an elegant victoria.

“Seek some other work,” said the black-and-steel lady, “and assist in crushing the hydra-headed demon rum.”  And she got into the victoria and drove away.

“I guess that puts it up to Mr. Otter again,” said Elsie, ruefully, turning down the street.  “And I’m sorry, too, for I’d much rather make my way without help.”

Near Fourteenth street Elsie saw a placard tacked on the side of a doorway that read:  “Fifty girls, neat sewers, wanted immediately on theatrical costumes.  Good pay.”

She was about to enter, when a solemn man, dressed all in black, laid his hand on her arm.

“My dear girl,” he said, “I entreat you not to enter that dressing-room of the devil.”