Very little later the foreman of the shop on Sixth Avenue was astonished to see her passing hastily toward the private office, regardless of the looks of surprise and interest turned toward her on every side, for the events of the night had been very generally whispered around.

“Mr. Schriven’s engaged,” he said sharply.  “What do you want?  Why are you not in your place?”

“I am in my place, but you are not.  Stand aside, for I will see Mr. Schriven at once.”

“I tell you some one is with him.”

“I don’t care if the king’s with him,” and darting on one side she reached the office door, and knocked so sharply that the ireful potentate within sprang up himself to see who the inconsiderate intruder was.

“Oh, it’s you,” he said, half inclined to laugh in spite of his anger.  “I thought I said that, if I employed you, you were not to come to my office again unless I sent for you?”

“I’m not in your employ.”

“Indeed!  How’s that?” he asked very sharply.

“That is just what I’ve come to explain,” was the unflinching reply.

“By-by,” remarked Mr. Schriven’s visitor maliciously; “I see you are to be interviewed.”

“Very briefly, I assure you.  Good-morning.  Now, miss, I give you about one minute to transact your business with me, then the cashier will pay you for two days’ work.”

“No, sir, he will not.  Do you think I’d take money stained with blood?”

“What do you mean?  What kind of a girl are you anyway?”

“I’m an honest girl; I believe in God and the devil—­I believe in them both too well to have anything more to do with you unless you can prove you didn’t know any more than I did.  You think to frighten me with black looks, but I’ve just come from a greater presence than yours—­the presence of one who’ll soon be your master—­Death, and death for which you are responsible.”

“Good God! what do you mean?”

“What did you mean by turning off without a word a poor girl—­one who for years had done her best for you?  What did you mean by making a place for me in that way?  Her mother died last night—­starved—­and I’d have you know that I’d have starved before I’d have taken her place had I known what I know now.  Go look at your work at the top of a tenement-house!  There’s more flesh on your arm than on that dead woman’s body, and the poor girl herself hadn’t eaten anything for two days when she came here last night.  She’d have died, too, if sister Millie hadn’t stayed with her last night.  I hope you didn’t know any more than I did.  If you did you’ve got to settle with God and the devil before you’re through with this kind of business.”