fully reasonable; that inmate of New York
who has but five cents has nothing.

On the other hand, there was nothing whatever to be advanced in
extenuation of her folly in thus inviting indigestion--a passion for
pastry is its own punishment no less than any other infatuation to
which mortal flesh is prone. Sally was morally certain she would
suffer, and that severely, before nightfall.

"Well, what of it?" she grumbled sullenly. "If I die for it, it's
cheap at the price! And, no matter what happens, it can't be any
hotter afterward than it is now."

Somehow soothed by this cynical reflection, she sat up, mopped her
flushed forehead with a handkerchief of which she was not proud, and
drank thirstily of her tumbler of ice-water.

The grateful draft reminded her that she had actually been athirst
ever since noon. It was now almost three o'clock--thanks to which fact
she might eat in the comparative comfort of a lunchroom which boasted
no patron other than herself. But she was little appreciative of this
boon; she comprehended her surroundings with just a little languid
resentment of their smug cleanliness and their atmosphere impregnated
with effluvia of cheap edibles. But if these seemed offensive she
would have been willing to overlook them on certain
conditions--as she proved when the waitress reappeared with her order.

"I don't suppose--" Miss Manvers began, but hesitated.

"What say?"

"I don't suppose you need any more girls here?"

"Lookin' for a job?" the waitress inquired brilliantly. "I dunno--I'll
ask the manager, if you want."

Miss Manvers nodded a barely audible "Please!" She munched drearily
for a few minutes, staring out through the front windows wherein, from
dawn till dark, a white-clad chef industriously browned the wheats and
cast sinkers; beyond their wide expanse of plate-glass, stenciled with
the name of the establishment in reverse, a vista of sun-smitten
street danced drunkenly through the reek from the sheet-iron griddles.
Miss Manvers wondered dully if the sidewalks were really less hot than
those same griddles.

"The manager says nothin' doin'," the waitress reported. "But you can
leave your name and add-ress if you wanta."

"Thanks," said Miss Manvers; "but what's the use?"

"That's right, all right," the other sympathised. "Besides, take it
from me, this ain't the kind of a job you could make good at. You
gotta be a horse like me to stand it, 'specially days like this."

"Yes