more of us every
morning if we have heard from Miss Pettengill. Then, every afternoon, he
says, 'Did I ask you this morning how Miss Pettengill was getting
along?' Of course it is this devotion to the interest of the firm that
leads him to ask these questions."

Alice flushed slightly, and turning to Quincy said, "Are you smiling,
Mr. Sawyer? There is nothing in it, I assure you; Bessie is a great
joker and torments the other girls unmercifully."

"I am glad there is nothing in it," said Quincy. "If I were a woman I
would be afraid to marry a bookkeeper. My household cash would have to
balance to a cent, and at the end of the year he would insist on
housekeeping showing a profit."

Alice regained her composure and Quincy continued his reading:

"What do you think! Rita Sanguily has left, and they say she is going to
marry a Dr. Culver, who lives up on Beacon Hill somewhere."

Quincy started a little as he read this, but made no comment.

"I was out to see Stella Dwight the other day, and she showed me a
picture of you. Can you spare one to your old friend,

BESSIE WHITE.

"P.S.--I don't expect an answer, but I shall expect the picture. I
shall write you whenever I get any news, and send you a dozen kisses and
two big hugs. B.W."

"She is more liberal than Miss Farnum," remarked Quincy. "She is not
afraid that I will commit robbery."

"No," rejoined Alice, "but I cannot share with you. Bessie White is the
dearest friend I have in the world."

"Miss White is fortunate," said Quincy, "but who is Rita Sanguily, if I
am not presuming in asking the question?"

"She is a Portuguese girl," answered Alice, "with black eyes and
beautiful black hair. She is very handsome and can talk Portuguese,
French, and Spanish. She held a certain line of custom on this account.
Do you know her?"

"No," replied Quincy, "but I think I know Dr. Culver."

"What kind of a looking man is he?" asked Alice.

"Oh! he is tall and heavily built, with large bright blue eyes and tawny
hair," said Quincy.

"I like such marked contrasts in husband and wife," remarked Alice.

"So do I," said Quincy, looking at himself in a looking glass which hung
opposite, and then at Alice; "but how about Miss White's picture?"

"Can I trouble you to get one?" said Alice.

"No trouble at all," replied Quincy; but he went up the stairs this time
one step at a time. He was deliberating whether he should re