he was.

Naturally one would suppose that two persons so full of theoretical
wisdom would have applied it, and that in applying it they would have
been the happiest and most useful people in all the town; but instead
they were probably the most miserable people in town, and Mrs. Martin,
whom we knew better than Red, because she once had worked in the office,
was forever bemoaning what she called her "lot," though we knew for many
years that her "lot" was not the result of the fates against her, but
merely the inevitable consequence of her temperament.

Before we put in linotypes and set our type by machinery it was set by
girls. Usually we employed half-a-dozen, who came from the town high
school. They kept coming and going, as girls do who work in country
towns, getting married in their twenties or finding something better
than printing, and it is likely that in ten years as many as fifty girls
have worked in the office, and be it said to the credit of the
girls--which cannot be said of so many of the boys and men who have
worked in the shop--that they were girls we were proud of--all but
Ethelwylde Swaney.

She that we called the Princess worked in the office less than two
years, but the memory of her still lingers, though hardly could one say
like "the scent of the roses"; for the Princess was not merely a poor
compositor, she was the kind that would make mistakes and blame others
for them, and that kind never learns. Though she ran away to marry Red
Martin--which was her own mistake--this habit of blaming others for her
faults was so strong that she never forgave her mother for making the
match. We know in our office that Mrs. Swaney did not dream that the
girl was even going with Red Martin until they were married. Yet the
Martin neighbours for twenty years have blamed Mrs. Swaney. When the
Princess was in the office we found out that the truth wasn't in her;
also we discovered that she was lazy and that she cried too easily.
Right at the busy hour in the afternoon we used to catch her with a type
in her fingers and her hand poised in the air, looking off into space
for a minute at a time, and when we spoke to her she would put her head
on her case and cry softly; and the foreman would have to apologise
before she would go back to work. Even then she would have to take the
broken piece of looking-glass that she kept in her capital "K" box and
make an elaborate toilet before settling down. Moreover, though she was