no good.

Rebecca was out to "improve herself," as her father had told her she
must. Ardessa had easy way with her. It was one of those rare
relationships from which both persons profit. The more Becky could
learn from Ardessa, the happier she was; and the more Ardessa could
unload on Becky, the greater was her contentment. She easily broke
Becky of the gum-chewing habit, taught her to walk quietly, to
efface herself at the proper moment, and to hold her tongue. Becky
had been raised to eight dollars a week; but she didn't care half so
much about that as she did about her own increasing efficiency. The
more work Miss Devine handed over to her the happier she was, and
the faster she was able to eat it up. She tested and tried herself
in every possible way. She now had full confidence that she would
surely one day be a high-priced stenographer, a real "business
woman."

Becky would have corrupted a really industrious person, but a
bilious temperament like Ardessa's couldn't make even a feeble stand
against such willingness. Ardessa had grown soft and had lost the
knack of turning out work. Sometimes, in her importance and
serenity, she shivered. What if O'Mally should die, and she were
thrust out into the world to work in competition with the brazen,
competent young women she saw about her everywhere? She believed
herself indispensable, but she knew that in such a mischanceful
world as this the very powers of darkness might rise to separate her
from this pearl among jobs.

When Becky came in from lunch she went down the long hall to the
wash-room, where all the little girls who worked in the advertising
and circulation departments kept their hats and jackets. There were
shelves and shelves of bright spring hats, piled on top of one
another, all as stiff as sheet-iron and trimmed with gay flowers. At
the marble wash-stand stood Rena Kalski, the right bower of the
business manager, polishing her diamond rings with a nail-brush.

"Hullo, kid," she called over her shoulder to Becky. "I've got a
ticket for you for Thursday afternoon."

Becky's black eyes glowed, but the strained look on her face drew
tighter than ever.

"I'll never ask her, Miss Kalski," she said rapidly. "I don't dare.
I have to stay late to-night again; and I know she'd be hard to
please after, if I was to try to get off on a week-day. I thank you,
Miss Kalski, but I'd better not."

Miss Kalski laughed. She was a slender young Hebrew, handsome in