Then came the offer of a position in Front Office, and Susan took it on her own responsibility, and resigned herself to her aunt’s anger.  This was a most unhappy time for all concerned.

But it was all over now.  Auntie rebeled no more, she accepted the fact as she had accepted other unwelcome facts in her life.  And soon Susan’s little salary came to be depended upon by the family; it was not much, but it did pay a gas or a laundry bill, it could be “borrowed” for the slippers Georgie must have in a hurry, or the ticket that should carry Alfie to Sacramento or Stockton for his new job.  Virginia wondered if Sue would lend her two dollars for the subscription to the “Weekly Era,” or asked, during the walk to church, if Susan had “plate-money” for two?  Mary Lou used Susan’s purse as her own.  “I owe you a dollar, Sue,” she would observe carelessly, “I took it yesterday for the cleaner.”

Or, on their evening walks, Mary Lou would glance in the candy-store window.  “My!  Don’t those caramels look delicious!  This is my treat, now, remind me to give it back to you.”  “Oh, Ma told me to get eggs,” she would remember suddenly, a moment later.  “I’ll have to ask you to pay for them, dearie, until we get home.”

Susan never was repaid these little loans.  She could not ask it.  She knew very well that none of the girls ever had a cent given her except for some definite and unavoidable purchase.  Her aunt never spent money.  They lived in a continual and agonizing shortage of coin.

Lately, however, Susan had determined that if her salary were raised she would save the extra money, and not mention the fact of the raise at home.  She wanted a gray feather boa, such as Peter Coleman’s girl friends wore.  It would cost twenty dollars, but what beauty and distinction it lent to the simplest costume!

Since young Mr. Coleman’s appearance in Front Office certain young girls very prominent in San Francisco society found various reasons for coming down, in mid-afternoon, to the establishment of Hunter, Baxter & Hunter, for a chat with old Mr. Baxter, who appeared to be a great favorite with all girls.  Susan, looking down through the glass walls of Front Office, would suddenly notice the invasion of flowered hats and smart frocks, and of black and gray and white feather-boas, such as her heart desired.  She did not consciously envy these girls, but she felt that, with their advantages, she would have been as attractive as any, and a boa seemed the first step in the desired direction.  She always knew it when Mr. Baxter sent for Peter, and generally managed to see him as he stood laughing and talking with his friends, and when he saw them to their carriages.  She would watch him wistfully when he came upstairs, and be glad when he returned briskly to his work, as if the interruption had meant very little to him after all.

One day, when a trio of exquisitely pretty girls came to carry him off bodily, at an early five o’clock, Miss Thornton came up the office to Susan’s desk.  Susan, who was quite openly watching the floor below, turned with a smile, and sat down in her place.