ho hasn't paid; and if it isn't anybody
special you send them a fresh account. And if it's a real lady you don't
worry her. You have to know who's who in a business like this. That's
the chief thing."

"Does Gaga--Mr. Bertram know who's who?"

"No!" Miss Summers's tone was conclusive. "But his mother tells him who
to write to, or who to send an account to, and he knows book-keeping,
and how much is at the bank; and he draws cheques for her to sign, and
that sort of thing. Between you and me, Sally--mind, this is _quite_
between ourselves,--I don't think Mr. Bertram's got a very good head for
figures. You have to be a bit smarter than he is. Of course, he's very
kind and good-looking; but if I wanted good sound common sense I
wouldn't go to him. Not a good head for figures. He's not very sharp.
Now Madam's as sharp as a needle. It's funny how a really sharp woman
sometimes has a son who's--well, not so sharp...."

"Would you say _I_ was sharp?" asked Sally innocently.

"Like a knife," declared Miss Summers, with a quick dart of her feline
eyes.

"Really?" Sally was eager. She gave a little chuckle of pleasure at such
emphatic praise.

"You'd be able to do the books, but you're better where you are. When
you've been here another three months, Sally, you'll be getting more
money. It isn't only that you're a good worker, and quick, but you've
got more sense than the other girls. I oughtn't to say this to you. I
don't generally praise the girls here. But if you want to get on, you've
only got to stay where you are. You'll find Madam appreciates you. And
so do I."

"You've been awfully good to me," murmured Sally, with downcast eyes.
"I'm not just saying that, Miss Summers; I mean it, every word. When I
came here I didn't know anything; and now I don't know a lot; but...."
She gave a small cluck of her tongue, and a smile to show how much she
had learned. It was true. And she was even learning to speak better,
through listening to Madam and Miss Summers and at times a customer; and
she had enough sense to avoid the extravagant refinements of Nosey.
Presently she resumed: "Miss Summers, what does Mr. Bertram do? He's got
a business of his own, hasn't he?"

Miss Summers looked across at the door leading to Madam's room, and
lowered her voice.

"It's only something Madam put him into. It's a business all to do with
farms."

"Farms?" Sally laughed. "Well, _he_ doesn't look much like a farmer."

"No, it isn't exactl