, besides being Ella Monahan?"

"Buyer of gloves at Haynes-Cooper, Father."

"You don't tell me, now!" He turned to Fanny, put his two big hands
on her shoulders, and swung her around to face the light. "Hm," he
murmured, noncommittally, after that.

"Hm--what?" demanded Fanny. "It sounds unflattering, whatever it means."
"Gloves!" repeated Father Fitzpatrick, unheeding her. "Well, now, what
d'you think of that! Millions of dollars' worth, I'll wager, in your
time."

"Two million and a half in my department last year," replied Ella,
without the least trace of boastfulness. One talked only in terms of
millions at Haynes-Cooper's.

"What an age it is! When two slips of women can earn salaries that would
make the old kings of Ireland look like beggars." He twinkled upon the
older woman. "And what a feeling it must be--independence, and all."

"I've earned my own living since I was seventeen," said Ella Monahan.
"I'd hate to tell you how long that is." A murmur from the gallant
Irishman. "Thanks, Father, for the compliment I see in your eyes. But
what I mean is this: You're right about independence. It is a grand
thing. At first. But after a while it begins to pall on you. Don't ask
me why. I don't know. I only hope you won't think I'm a wicked woman
when I say I could learn to love any man who'd hang a silver fox scarf
and a string of pearls around my neck, and ask me if I didn't feel a
draft."

"Wicked! Not a bit of it, my girl. It's only natural, and
commendable--barrin' the pearls."

"I'd forego them," laughed Ella, and with a parting handshake left the
two alone.

Father Fitzpatrick looked after her. "A smart woman, that." He took out
his watch, a fat silver one. "It's eleven-thirty. My train leaves at
four. Now, Fanny, if you'll get on your hat, and arrange to steal an
hour or so from this Brobdingnagian place a grand word that, my girl,
and nearer to swearing than any word I know--I'll take you to the
Blackstone, no less, for lunch. How's that for a poor miserable old
priest!"

"You dear, I couldn't think of it. Oh, yes, I could get away, but let's
lunch right here at the plant, in the grill----"

"Never! I couldn't. Don't ask it of me. This place scares me. I came up
in the elevator with a crowd and a guide, and he was juggling millions,
that chap, the way a newsboy flips a cent. I'm but a poor parish priest,
but I've got my pride. We'll go to the Blackstone, which I've passed,
humbly, but never been