Her brightness of countenance faded when her old chum left her at the gate of the Clayton cottage. She cast a commiserating glance after him as he went on, whistling. It was not until then that the withered, useless right arm of the young man became really noticeable. She called to her mother that she was home from work and went up to her room to freshen her dress for dinner. Benway slipped out of her mind as she did this--and most other things, save one. That was a comparison she had begun to make on Burnaby Street between herself and Helen Fuller. Was she jealous of the other girl? Why should she be? She was sure she would not care to change places with Miss Fuller, money and all, for any consideration. Yet-- She saw Frank Barton getting into the Fuller car, which Helen drove so conspicuously about the streets of Mailsburg. Ethel Clayton could not do that! Ethel must work, and dress plainly six days in the week because of her position. Miss Fuller was always dressed as gaily as a bird of paradise. And one must confess that men’s eyes were attracted--sometimes blinded--by gay clothes. Frank Barton could not be blamed for being a man. No. She had no complaint to make against Frank Barton. He was always polite and kind and appreciative. “And he’d be all of that to a stray kitten that chanced to cross his path!” she ejaculated in sudden disgust. “Helen Fuller has something to offer him that I haven’t.” CHAPTER III “DOGFENNEL” Frank Barton stepped into the car beside Miss Fuller and was whirled away, a willing captive. To tell the truth, the general manager of the Hapwood-Diller Company had been so busy fitting himself for his present situation with the corporation, which he had now held two years, that he had found little play-time. Having been motherless since childhood, and always sisterless, he probably knew less about women than any normal man in Mailsburg who had arrived at the age of twenty-eight. No girl had before so plainly shown that she was interested in him--and Miss Fuller only recently. Her curiosity had first been piqued by hearing Grandon Fuller speak in strong approval of the manager. Barton had pulled the concern out of a slough of financial trouble that had threatened to ruin the Hapwood-Diller Company. The Fullers had not always been wealthy. At least, not the Grandon-Fuller branch. Not until Israel Diller died and left them the bulk of his holdings in the Hapwood-Diller Company were they any better off than their neighbors on the far end of Burnaby Street, where Ethel Clayton and her mother and the Chases still lived. With the money Mrs. Fuller--an ambitious woman--had set out to be the leader of Mailsburg’s society. To a certain degree she had succeeded. Helen was growing up to be a society devotee and with scarcely a sensible idea in her head. But she had beauty, and she made the most of that.