ost in the pressure
of work, the interest of bringing forth the first realization of a
lifelong dream, the woman herself--but she was not designing--came.

CHAPTER IV

Miss Antonia Gibbs came from the typewriting office with excellent
testimonials. Though but eighteen years of age, she was vouched for as a
steady, conscientious worker, well-educated and of exceptional
intelligence. Quick, accurate, and possessed of a capital memory, she
would seem to be the ideal typist for an office such as that presided
over by Owen Rose; and after perusing the certificates and other
documents forming what one might call her _dossier_, Owen had really no
choice but to engage the prodigy.

When she received the letter announcing the fact Miss Gibbs danced with
delight.

"Two pounds a week! Think of it!" Thus she besought her cousin Fanny, a
rather full-blown young woman employed in a "drapery-house" at Brixton.
"And easy hours--with an hour off for lunch! Isn't it lovely!"

"You'll have the office 'commish' to pay," her cousin reminded her, "and
I know all about those short hours! Sound well, but they generally want
overtime out of you--without paying for it either!"

"Do they?" Antonia's joy was momentarily checked. Then she recovered her
spirits. "Anyway, even then it's a good post, and I can easily pay the
commission out of two pounds!"

"Yes, of course." Fanny, whose natural optimism was somewhat impaired by
her experience in drapers' shops, cheered up also. "It's a grand
opportunity for you, Toni, and mind you make the most of it."

"Rather," returned Toni gaily. "I'm to start to-morrow, so this is my
last free night. Aren't you glad some people are coming in to tea?"

"Yes." Fanny, recalled to the immediate present, began her preparations
for the tea-party. "Josh'll be pleased to hear of your luck, Toni; he's
real fond of you, you know."

"Is he?" Toni, pulling off her flannel blouse, spoke a trifle absently.

"Yes. If I weren't fond of you myself I declare I'd be jealous! Don't
know how it is, all the boys seem to take to you straight away, Toni,
and you don't care a pin for any of 'em!"

"Perhaps that's why," said Toni cheerfully, voicing a truth without in
the least realizing it. "After all, who is there to care for? Jack
Brown, or young Graves, or that funny little Walter Britton out of Lea
and Harper's?" She plunged her glowing face into a basin of cold water
as she spoke.

"No. I s'pose they're not q