to be left alone, and I will be left alone. If there is any more
work, I will do it. If there isn't, I can find some somewhere else. But
visitors I don't want and won't have."

Elizabeth was adorably patient. She surreptitiously drew towards her a
cane chair, a doubtful-looking article of furniture upon which she seated
herself slowly and with great care.

"Well," she continued, with unabated pleasantness, "that is reasonable as
far as it goes, only we didn't quite understand, and it is such a climb
up here, isn't it? I came to talk about some work, but I must get my
breath first."

"Miss Dalstan thought, perhaps," Philip intervened diffidently, "that you
might consider accepting a post at the theatre. They always keep two
stenographers there, and one of them fills up her time by private work,
generally work for some one connected with the theatre. In your case you
could, of course, go on with mine, only when I hadn't enough for you, and
of course I can't compose as fast as you can type, there would be
something else, and the salary would be regular."

"I should like a regular post," the girl admitted sullenly. "So would any
one who's out of work, of course."

"The salary," Elizabeth explained, "is twenty-five dollars a week. The
hours are nine to six. You have quite a comfortable room there, but when
you have private work connected with the theatre you can bring it home if
you wish. Mr. Ware tells me that you work very quickly. You will finish
all that you have for him to-day, won't you?"

"I shall have it finished in half an hour."

"Then will you be at the New York Theatre to-morrow morning at nine
o'clock," Elizabeth suggested. "There are some parts to be copied. It
will be very nice indeed if you like the work, and I think you will."

The girl stood there, irresolute. It was obvious that she was trying to
bring herself to utter some form of thanks. Then there was a loud knock
at the door, which was opened without waiting for any reply. The janitor
stood there with a small key in his hand, which he threw down upon a
table.

"Key of number two hundred, miss," he said. "Let me have it back again
to-night."

He closed the door and departed.

"Two hundred?" Philip exclaimed. "Why, that's my old room, the one up
above."

"I must see it," Elizabeth insisted. "Do please let us go up there. I
meant to ask you to show it me."

"You are not thinking of moving, are you, Miss Grimes?" Philip enquired.

She sn