heeled Indiana avenue car, the
sound of high laughter and a snatch of song that came faintly up to her
from the speeding car of some midnight joy-riders!

But all this had to do with her other side. It had no bearing on
Haynes-Cooper, and business. Business! That was it. She had trained
herself for it, like an athlete. Eight hours of sleep. A cold plunge on
arising. Sane food. Long walks. There was something terrible about her
earnestness.

On Monday she presented herself at the Haynes-Cooper plant. Monday and
Tuesday were spent in going over the great works. It was an exhausting
process, but fascinating beyond belief. It was on Wednesday that she had
been summoned for the talk with Michael Fenger. Thursday morning she was
at her desk at eight-thirty. It was an obscure desk, in a dingy corner
of the infants' wear department, the black sheep section of the great
plant. Her very presence in that corner seemed to change it magically.
You must remember how young she was, how healthy, how vigorous, with the
freshness of the small town still upon her. It was health and youth,
and vigor that gave that gloss to her hair (conscientious brushing too,
perhaps), that color to her cheeks and lips, that brightness to her
eyes. But crafty art and her dramatic instinct were responsible for the
tailored severity of her costume, for the whiteness of her blouse, the
trim common-sense expensiveness of her shoes and hat and gloves.

Slosson, buyer and head of the department, came in at nine. Fanny rose
to greet him. She felt a little sorry for Slosson. In her mind she
already knew him for a doomed man.

"Well, well!"--he was the kind of person who would say, well,
well!--"You're bright and early, Miss--ah--"

"Brandeis."

"Yes, certainly; Miss Brandeis. Well, nothing like making a good start."

"I wanted to go through the department by myself," said Fanny. "The
shelves and bins, and the numbering system. I see that your new
maternity dresses have just come in."

"Oh, yes. How do you like them?"

"I think they're unnecessarily hideous, Mr. Slosson."

"My dear young lady, a plain garment is what they want. Unnoticeable."

"Unnoticeable, yes; but becoming. At such a time a woman is at her
worst. If she can get it, she at least wants a dress that doesn't add to
her unattractiveness."

"Let me see--you are not--ah--married, I believe, Miss Brandeis?"

"No."

"I am. Three children. All girls." He passed a nervous hand over his
h