As soon as Amelia entered Catherine’s room she started upon a recital of her various woes, chief of which appeared to be the possession of an unfeeling and narrow-minded parent. Catherine listened apathetically, and all the time with conscious superiority she was thinking: This is youth. _I_ was like this when I was _her_ age. Funny how we grow out of our grievances.... ... “It’s too bad,” Amelia was saying. “Only last week Mr. Hobbs asked me to go out to the pictures, and I had to refuse because it wasn’t a Saturday.” “Who is Mr. Hobbs?” “The salesman in our department ... and he don’t offer to spend his money on anybody _too_ often, either.” “Careful with his money, eh?” “Careful?--stingy, I should call it.... Takes you in the sixpenny parts at the pictures and if you wants any chocolates he goes up to the girl at the counter and says: ‘I’ll have a quarter of mixed----’” Amelia laughed scornfully. “Only it’s too bad,” she went on, resuming her original theme, “to be compelled to say no when he does ask you out with him!” Catherine smiled. She was not of this world. She did not go out to “pictures” with salesmen from West-end departmental stores.... Yet with a sudden impulse she said: “You know, I shall have to be looking about for a job very soon. My arm, you see: I’m doubtful of it being really well for quite a long time. And, of course, I can’t afford to--to go on like this.... Any jobs going at your place?” Amelia pondered. “I heard they wanted a girl in the song department.... That’s next to where I am--I’m in the gramophone line.... You know lots about music, don’t you?” “Oh--fair amount.” “Well, you might get it. I’ll see what Mr. Hobbs says. Better come up with me on Tuesday morning.” “Right, I will.... I’m pretty sure the job will suit me....” “I daresay it will ... and you’ll learn what a lot I have to put up with. There’s heaps of pictures and theatres and things I’d like to go to up that part of the town, only I can’t because of mother. She says----” And as Catherine listened to Amelia’s woes and began the preparations for tea, she actually started to experience in a tired, restricted kind of way a certain species of happiness! After all, the struggle was over. And the struggle had wearied her, wearied her more than she had herself realized until this very moment.... No, she reflected, as she spooned the tea out of the caddy into the teapot--no: I am not going to be very disappointed.... But she was just faintly, remotely, almost imperceptibly disappointed at not being disappointed.... CHAPTER XXII MR. HOBBS § 1 A WEDNESDAY morning in June. Catherine had been in the song department for just over a month. Her work was easy and not too monotonous. It consisted in selling ballad songs, and trying them over to customers on the piano. Every day new music came from the publishers, and she had to familiarize herself with it. She was very successful at this kind of work, and was altogether happy in her position.