ssed man of middle age appeared suddenly
before her.

"I beg pardon, miss," he said, raising his hat, "but I am a stranger in
this neighborhood and am looking for a certain number. If you live about
here perhaps you will kindly direct me."

"I will, with pleasure, sir. What number do you wish?" asked Faith.

As she spoke she paused directly in the glare of a gas lamp.

As the light fell on her face the stranger stopped abruptly.

"By Jove! What luck!" he cried, gayly. "The very angel I was thinking
of!"

"What do you mean, sir!" cried Faith, who was now thoroughly frightened.
"If you wish me to direct you, state the number that you seek at once! I
am not in the habit of being addressed by strangers!"

"My dear child, don't get angry. I shall not harm you," said the man,
politely, "but you surprised me out of myself. I did not dream of
meeting you."

As Faith still stood staring at him he continued, speaking hurriedly,
and his manner became so chivalrous that the young girl soon accused
herself mentally of rudeness.

"You see, it is this way, miss. I was thinking of the sweetest little
girl in the whole big world, and when I saw your face you were so much
like her that to save my soul I could not help that exclamation. You
will pardon me, I am sure, for I meant no harm whatever! I am old enough
to be your father, so you see you have no reason to fear me."

"I spoke hastily," said Faith, slowly. "I had no wish to be rude, but
you must admit that I had cause to feel a little startled."

"You did, indeed, and I apologize humbly, but am I not right in thinking
that I have seen you somewhere before? Are you not employed in the
department store of Denton, Day & Co.?"

Faith looked at him in surprise.

"I have worked there two days," she began, a little hastily.

"And I have seen you twice," replied the stranger, promptly. "Your face
is a sweet one. I could not forget it."

The words were spoken so quietly that Faith could not resent them. She
was moving slowly toward her home now, feeling a little bit nervous.

"That is a dreadful life for a girl," went on the man, very quietly. "It
is agony for the poor things, both of mind and body!"

"You are right, sir," cried Faith, who had thought instantly of Miss
Jennings. "The shop girls' life is one continuous drudgery. She is the
slave of circumstances and the victim of conditions."

"I am surprised that so many enter the life. There are surely other
vocations.