ng
to his age."

"I am the head of the firm."

"That is so," she assented. "But if it were not for me and the others on
your pay roll there would be no firm to require a head, and you'd be out
of a job. You see, we are quite as essential to you as you are to us."

Grant looked at her keenly. Whatever her words, he had to admit that
her tone was not impertinent. She had a manner of stating a fact, rather
than engaging in an argument. There was nothing hostile about her. She
had voiced these sentiments in as matter-of-fact a way as if she were
saying, "It's raining out; you had better take your umbrella."

"You appear to be a very advanced young woman," he remarked. "I am a
little surprised--I had hardly thought my father would select young
women of your type as his confidential secretaries."

"Private stenographer," she corrected. "A little extra side on a title
is neither here nor there. Well, I will admit that I rather took your
father's breath at times; he discharged me so often it became a habit,
but we grew to have a sort of tacit understanding that that was just his
way of blowing off steam. You see, I did his work, and I did it right.
I never lost my head when he got into a temper; I could always read my
notes even after he had spent most of the day in death grips with some
business rival. You see, I wasn't afraid of him, not the least bit. And
I'm not afraid of you."

"I don't believe you are," Grant admitted. "You are a remarkable woman.
I think we shall get along all right if you are able to distinguish
between independence and bravado." He turned to his desk, then suddenly
looked up again. He was homesick for someone he could talk to frankly.

"I don't mind telling you," he said abruptly, "that the deference which
is being showered upon me around this institution gives me a good deal
of a pain. I've been accustomed to working with men on the same level.
They took their orders from me, and they carried them out, but the older
hands called me by my first name, and any of them swore back when he
thought he had occasion. I can't fit in to this 'Yes sir,' 'No sir,'
'Very good, sir,' way of doing business. It doesn't ring true."

"I know what you mean," she said. "There's too much servility in it. And
yet one may pay these courtesies and not be servile. I always 'sir'd'
your father, and he knew I did it because I wanted to, not because I had
to. And I shall do the same with you once we understand each other.