g,
to-morrow morning, would wish that Miss David was not so slow, would
wish that Mrs. Bannister was back.

The editor himself was out of town; but his assistant was as
encouraging as a somewhat dazzled young man could be.

"She's a corker," said the assistant later. "She's pretty and she talks
fast and she's full of fun; but it's not that. She's got a sort of PUSH
to her; you'll like her. I bet she'll be just the person. I told her
that you'd be here this morning, and she said she'd call again."

"I hope she does!" the editor said. Her card was handed him a moment
later.

In came the tall, severely gowned woman with the flashing smile and
blue eyes, and magnificent bronze hair. She radiated confidence and
power. He had hoped for something like this from her letters; she was
better than his hopes. She wanted a position. She hoped, she said
innocently, that it was a good time for positions.

It was always a good time for certain people, the editor reflected.
They talked for half an hour, irrelevant talk, Martie thought it, for
it was principally of her personal history and his own. Then a
stenographer interrupted; the little boy was afraid that his mother had
gone away through some other door!

The little boy came in, and shook hands with Mr. Trowbridge, and
subsided into his mother's lap. Then the three had another half-hour's
talk. Mr. Trowbridge had boys, too, but they were up in the country now.

He himself escorted them over the office, through large spaces filled
with desks, past closed doors, through a lunch-room and a library.
Respectful greetings met them on all sides. Martie was glad she had on
her wedding suit, and the new hat that had been in a department store
on Sixth Avenue yesterday afternoon. Mr. Trowbridge called Mrs.
Bannister's attention to a certain desk. When they went back to the
privacy of his own office, he asked her if she would like to come to
use that desk, say on Monday?

"There's a bunch of confidential letters there now, for you to answer,"
he said. "Then there are always articles to change, or cut, or adapt.
Also our Miss Briggs, in the 'My Own Money Club,' needs help. We may
ask you sometimes to take home a bunch of stories to read; we may ask
you to do something else!"

"I'll address envelopes or stoke the furnace!" said Martie, bright
tears in her smiling eyes. "I don't know whether I'm worth all that
money," she added, "for it doesn't seem to me that anybody in the world
re