In the middle of her University of Chicago career this young paradox made up of steel and velvet, of ruthlessness and charm, had announced, to the surprise of her family and friends, her intention of going in for the University's newest course--that in which young women were trained to occupy executive positions in retail mercantile establishments. Quite suddenly western co-educational universities and eastern colleges for women--Vassar, Smith, Wellesley, Bryn Mawr--were training girl students for business executive positions. Salaries of ten--twenty--twenty-five thousand a year were predicted, together with revolutionary changes in the conduct of such business. Until now such positions had been occupied, for the most part, by women who had worked their way up painfully, hand over hand, from a cash or stock-girl's job through a clerkship to department head; thence, perhaps, to the position of buyer and, later, office executive. On the way they acquired much knowledge of human nature and business finesse, but it was a matter of many years. These were, usually, shrewd, hard-working, successful women; but limited and often devoid of education other than that gained by practical experience. This new course would introduce into business the trained young woman of college education. Business was to be a profession, not a rough-and-tumble game. Charley's grandmother looked on this choice of career with mingled gratification and disapproval. Plainly it was the Isaac Thrift in Charley asserting itself. But a Thrift--a woman Thrift--in a shop!--even though ultimately occupying a mahogany office, directing large affairs, and controlling battalions of push buttons and secretaries. Was it ladylike? Was it quite nice? What would the South Side say? So, then--"Places you?" Mrs. Payson had echoed uneasily, at dinner. "For beginning practical experience. We learn the business from the ground up as an engineer does, or an interne. I've just heard to-day they've placed me at Shield's, in the blouses. I'm to start Monday." "You don't say!" exclaimed Henry Kemp, at once amused and pleased. He could not resist treating Charley and her job as a rare joke. "Saleswoman, I suppose, to begin with. Clerk, h'm? Say, Charley, I'm coming in and ask about----" "Clerk?" repeated Mrs. Payson, almost feebly for her. She saw herself sliding around corners and fleeing up aisles to avoid Shield's blouse section so that her grandchild need not approach her with a softly insinuating "Is there something, Madam?" "Saleswoman! I should say not!" Charley grinned at their ignorance. "No--no gravy, thanks--" to Hulda at her elbow. Charley ate like an athlete in training, avoiding gravies, pastries, sweets. Her skin was a rose-petal. "I'm to start in Monday as stock-girl--if I'm in luck."