e Anti-Sweat League, or Work People's Aid Society, or any
old name like that. They smell around to see what goes on behind the
scenes in a department store, and drop on us if they can."

"Oh, I see! And you thought they might have hired me---"

"I _didn't_ think so, as a matter of fact. I pride myself on spotting
folks for what they are the minute I lamp them. There's something
about 'em I can _feel_. I was sure you weren't one of that bunch. But
I felt bound to mention the report. Now that's finished--breakfast
cleared away! We'll go on to the next thing."

Again Win waited. And her heart missed a beat, for Mr. Meggison was
looking at her as if he had something very special to say.

"Most of the extra people we let go the week after Christmas," he went
on slowly. "Even if they're smart, we have enough regular ones without
'em. But perhaps we can keep you if you make good. And if you want to
stay. Do you?"

"Yes, thank you. As far as I can tell now, I should like to stay, if I
give satisfaction," Win answered with caution.

"Well, we'll see. It's up to you, anyhow. I told you I was going to
test your character. That's why I put you where I did. I knew what
you'd be up against. Now the idea is to test you some more."

He paused an instant. This was a catch phrase of his: "the idea is."
He often used it. And when he said: "It is my habit," or "My way is,"
he spoke with the repressed yet bursting pride of the self-made man
who has suddenly been raised to a height almost beyond his early
dreams.

"I may change you into another department next week," he went on,
"where you'll have a better time and less work. What do you say to
_Gloves_?"

Win felt very stupid. "What ought I to say to Gloves?" she inquired
helplessly.

Then the great Mr. Meggison actually laughed. "Gee! You _are_ an
amateur, Miss Child. Why, the girls all think the Gloves are the pick
of the basket. What your London Gaiety is to actresses, that the glove
department is to our salesladies. It's called the marriage market.
Ladies' _and_ gents' gloves, you understand. Now do you see the
point?"

"I suppose I do," Win rather reluctantly confessed, faintly blushing.

"Some of the best lookers in our Gloves have married Fifth Avenue
swells. It's pretty busy there just now. The young fellows buy gloves
by the dozen for their best girls at Christmas time when they want to
ring a change on flowers. Maybe I'll put you into Gloves, if you'll
agree to mak