pf.

The three bowed, but did not commit themselves. Emma, her hand still
on Sophy's, elaborated:

"Sophy Kumpf has been with the T. A. Buck Company for thirty years.
She could run this business single-handed, if she had to. She knows any
machine in the shop, can cut a pattern, keep books, run the entire
plant if necessary. If there's anything about petticoats that Sophy
doesn't know, it's because it hasn't been invented yet. Sophy was
sixteen when she came to Buck's. I've heard she was the prettiest and
best dressed girl in the shop."

"Oh, now, Mrs. Buck!" remonstrated Sophy.

Emma tried to frown as she surveyed Sophy's bright eyes, her rosy
cheeks, her broad bosom, her ample hips--all that made Sophy an object
to comfort and rest the eye.

"Don't dispute, Sophy. Sophy has educated her children, married them
off, and welcomed their children. She thinks that excuses her for
having been frivolous and extravagant at sixteen. But we know better,
don't we? I'm using you as a horrible example, Sophy."

Sophy turned affably to the listening three.

"Don't let her string you," she said, and winked one knowing eye.

Mrs. Orton-Wells stiffened. Miss Susan H. Croft congealed. But Miss
Gladys Orton-Wells smiled. And then Emma knew she was right.

"Sophy, who's the prettiest girl in our shop? And the best dressed?"

"Lily Bernstein," Sophy made prompt answer.

"Send her in to us, will you? And give her credit for lost time when
she comes back to the shop."

Sophy, with a last beamingly good-natured smile, withdrew. Five
minutes later, when Lily Bernstein entered the office, Sophy qualified
as a judge of beauty. Lily Bernstein was a tiger-lily--all browns and
golds and creams, all graciousness and warmth and lovely curves. As
she came into the room, Gladys Orton-Wells seemed as bloodless and pale
and ineffectual as a white moth beside a gorgeous tawny butterfly.

Emma presented the girl as formally as she had Sophy Kumpf. And Lily
Bernstein smiled upon them, and her teeth were as white and even as one
knew they would be before she smiled. Lily had taken off her
shop-apron. Her gown was blue serge, cheap in quality, flawless as to
cut and fit, and incredibly becoming. Above it, her vivid face glowed
like a golden rose.

"Lily," said Emma, "Miss Orton-Wells is going to speak to the girls
this noon. I thought you might help by telling her whatever she wants
to know about the girls' work and all th