nd chorus of Paris-by-night; but you
can't help liking him."

"Well, I can," said Sophy Gold, and her voice was a little bitter, "and
without half trying."

"Oh, I don't say you weren't right. I've always made it a rule to steer
clear of the ax-grinders myself. There are plenty of girls who take
everything they can get. I know that Max Tack is just padded with
letters from old girls, beginning 'Dear Kid,' and ending, 'Yours with a
world of love!' I don't believe in that kind of thing, or in accepting
things. Julia Harris, who buys for three departments in our store,
drives up every morning in the French car that Parmentier's gave her
when she was here last year. That's bad principle and poor taste.
But--Well, you're young; and there ought to be something besides
business in your life."

Sophy Gold turned her face from the window toward Miss Morrissey. It
served to put a stamp of finality on what she said:

"There never will be. I don't know anything but business. It's the only
thing I care about. I'll be earning my ten thousand a year pretty soon."

"Ten thousand a year is a lot; but it isn't everything. Oh, no, it
isn't. Look here, dear; nobody knows better than I how this working and
being independent and earning your own good money puts the stopper on
any sentiment a girl might have in her; but don't let it sour you. You
lose your illusions soon enough, goodness knows! There's no use in
smashing 'em out of pure meanness."

"I don't see what illusions have got to do with Max Tack," interrupted
Sophy Gold.

Miss Morrissey laughed her fat, comfortable chuckle.

"I suppose you're right, and I guess I've been getting a lee-tle bit
nosey; but I'm pretty nearly old enough to be your mother. The girls
kind of come to me and I talk to 'em. I guess they've spoiled me.
They--"

There came a smart rapping at the door, followed by certain giggling and
swishing. Miss Morrissey smiled.

"That'll be some of 'em now. Just run and open the door, will you, like
a nice little thing? I'm too beat out to move."

The swishing swelled to a mighty rustle as the door opened. Taffeta was
good this year, and the three who entered were the last in the world to
leave you in ignorance of that fact. Ella Morrissey presented her new
friend to the three, giving the department each represented as one would
mention a title or order.

"The little plump one in black?--Ladies' and Misses' Ready-to-wear,
Gates Company, Portland.... That's a