t him any more. Oh, Mr. V.V.--"

"He can consider himself lucky if he doesn't lose _his_ job for this
day's work."

"Mr. V.V., _what d'you think?" _cried Kern; and having caused him to
turn by this opening, she fixed him with grave eyes, and hurried on:
"Well, there was a man here named Avery, and he was ridin' his
automobile slow down a dark road and his lamps went out. And there was
two men walkin' down the road, and he ran over one of them. So he turns
back to see if the man was hurted, and the road bein' so dark he runs
over him again. So he turns back again, scared he had killed him, and
then the other man that had hopped into the ditch, he sings out to his
friend, 'Get up, you damn fool, _he's comin' back!'"_

Having quite failed to follow Kern's cheer-up narrative, Mr. V.V.'s
stare remained blank, engrossed; but presently he was caught, first by
the silence, then by his little friend's wide and intensely expectant
gaze, just beginning to fade into childlike disappointment. He promptly
burst into a laugh. It began as a dutiful laugh, but Kern's expression
soon gave it a touch of genuineness.

"Ha, ha!" said he. "That's a good one! Well, where on earth did you get
that one?"

"Off Sadie Whirtle!" cried Kern; and springing up gleefully from the
sofa, began to pirouette and kick about the bleak office.

The young man watched her, buttoning his overcoat, his specious
merriment dying.... For all the high wages she earned, the Works was of
course the last place on earth for her; but for the moment that did not
happen to be the point.

"Was it not bein' a lady to say the word like he did?" said Kern,
swaying about and waving her arms like wings. "I told Sadie Whirtle it
wasn't netiquette, but Sadie she said it wasn't funny without you used
the swear. And I did want to make you laugh.... She druther be funny
than netiquette, Sadie said."

The young man picked up his bag again, his face intent. "I'm late with
my calls," said he. "Tell your mother that I mayn't be back for dinner."

"Sadie she heard a lady say damn once right out, a customer in the
store, in a velvet suit--"

"Now stop that foolish dancing, Corinne."

Kern stopped dancing. She still looked a little pale from her illness,
which had cost her seven pounds. That morning she had donned her
working-clothes expectantly, but she had changed since coming in, and
that accounted for her favorite red dress. The dress was a strict copy
of the slender mode;