s wanted. I can find a dress
which will fit, I know. I always can, and I can be in it fifteen
minutes from now."

"Well," the superintendent said with half-grudging approval that lit
a faint twinkle in his eyes, "you're no slow coach for an
Englishwoman. You may do. We sell 10 per cent. off to our employees.
Here's the key of your locker. Here's your check book. When you've got
your dress, ask for the schoolroom. Take fifteen minutes' lesson on
the blackboard for making out your checks, and the rest's up to you.
But look sharp. We've been open to customers for half an hour now. At
ten-thirty a two-hours' bargain sale of blouses, sashes, and ladies'
fancy neckwear opens on the first floor. That's yours. You must be in
the square more than half an hour before the sale begins, to see stock
and learn your job."

He eyed her sharply to see if she were "feazed." But Win had the
feeling that a "stiff upper lip" was needed for the honour of England
and the pluck of its womanhood. She remembered one of the stories she
had loved best as a child--the story of the task Venus set for Psyche
before she could be worthy of Cupid, the lover whose wings she had
burned with a drop of oil from her lamp. Now the girl, grown out of
childhood, understood how Psyche had felt when told to count the
grains of wheat in Venus's granary within a certain time limit.

"Well, anyhow, Psyche didn't ask questions, and I won't," she said to
herself. "The kind ants came and told her things: maybe the sardine
will come to me."

Looking almost preternaturally intelligent and pleased with life, Win
accepted the key and check book, and learned with a shock that, as one
of Peter Rolls's hands, she was No. 2884.

CHAPTER IX

THE TEST OF CHARACTER

The sardine's ears must have been sharp, for although the lion tamer
was between her and Win (like a thick chunk of ham in a thin
sandwich), she had heard something of the conversation at the
superintendent's window.

"Try the basement bargain counters for your dress; you'll get it
cheaper," she flung after the tall Effect in a shrill whisper as the
newly engaged hand flashed by.

There wasn't a second, or even half a second to lose, yet Win
slackened her pace to say "Thank you. I do hope we shall meet again."

Even the lion tamer threw her a look, though already he had taken his
turn at the window; but Win did not see the admiring glance. She was
flying down the stairs she had come up so slowly,