ission!" when he absently fumbled in a
cigarette-box.

She didn't like Walter Babson, after all!

But he stopped after a rhapsody on the divine merits of an air-cooling
system, clawed his billowing black hair, and sighed, "Sounds improbable,
don't it? Must be true, though; it's going to appear in the _Gazette_,
and that's the motor-dealer's bible. If you don't believe it, read the
blurbs we publish about ourselves!" Then he solemnly winked at her and
went on dictating.

When he had finished he demanded, "Ever take any dictation in this
office before?"

"No, sir."

"Ever take any motor dictation at all?"

"No, sir."

"Then you'd better read that back to me. Your immejit boss--the
office-manager--is all right, but the secretary of the company is always
pussy-footing around, and if you're ever having any trouble with your
stuff when old plush-ears is in sight, keep on typing fast, no matter
what you put down. Now read me the dope."

It was approximately correct. He nodded, and, "Good work, little girl,"
he said. "You'll get along all right. You get my dictation better than
that agitated antelope Miss Harman does, right now. That's all."

Sec. 2

So far as anything connected with Walter Babson could be regular, Una
became his regular stenographer, besides keeping up her copying. He was
always rushing out, apologizing for troubling her, sitting on the edge
of her desk, dictating a short letter, and advising her to try his
latest brand of health food, which, this spring, was bran
biscuits--probably combined with highballs and too much coffee. The
other stenographers winked at him, and he teased them about their
coiffures and imaginary sweethearts.... For three days the women's
coat-room boiled with giggles over Babson's declaration that Miss
MacThrostle was engaged to a burglar, and was taking a correspondence
course in engraving in order to decorate her poor dear husband's tools
with birds and poetic mottoes.

Babson was less jocular with Una than with the bouncing girls who were
natives of Harlem. But he smiled at her, as though they were
understanding friends, and once he said, but quietly, rather
respectfully, "You have nice hair--soft." She lay awake to croon that
to herself, though she denied that she was in love with this eccentric
waster.

Always Babson kept up his ejaculations and fidgeting. He often accused
himself of shiftlessness and begged her to make sure that he dictated
certain matter befor