said the clerk, with an air of inductive
reasoning. "Take that Claxon girl, now for example, I don't know what
it is about her. She's good-looking, I don't deny that; and she's got
pretty manners, and she's as graceful as a bird. But it a'n't any one of
'em, and it don't seem to be all of 'em put together that makes you
want to keep your eyes on her the whole while. Ever noticed what a nice
little foot she's got? Or her hands?"

"No," said the student.

"I don't mean that she ever tries to show them off; though I know some
girls that would. But she's not that kind. She ain't much more than a
child, and yet you got to treat her just like a woman. Noticed the kind
of way she's got?"

"No," said the student, with impatience.

The clerk mused with a plaintive air for a moment before he spoke.
"Well, it's something as if she'd been trained to it, so that she knew
just the right thing to do, every time, and yet I guess it's nature. You
know how the chef always calls her the Boss? That explains it about as
well as anything, and I presume that's what my mind was running on, the
other day, when I called her Boss. But, my! I can't get anywhere near
her since!"

"It serves you right," said Gregory. "You had no business to tease her."

"Now, do you think it was teasing? I did, at first, and then again it
seemed to me that I came out with the word because it seemed the right
one. I presume I couldn't explain that to her."

"It wouldn't be easy."

"I look upon her," said Fane, with an effect of argument in the
sweetness of his smile, "just as I would upon any other young lady in
the house. Do you spell apology with one p or two?"

"One," said the student, and the clerk made a minute on a piece of
paper.

"I feel badly for the girl. I don't want her to think I was teasing her
or taking any sort of liberty with her. Now, would you apologize to her,
if you was in my place, and would you write a note, or just wait your
chance and speak to her?"

Gregory got down from his stool with a disdainful laugh, and went out of
the place. "You make me sick, Fane," he said.

The last dance was over, and the young ladies who had been waltzing with
one another, came out of the parlor with gay cries and laughter, like
summer girls who had been at a brilliant hop, and began to stray down
the piazzas, and storm into the office. Several of them fluttered up to
the desk, as the clerk had foretold, and looked for letters in the boxes
bearing