"Miss Hallowell," said Tetlow. "We are letting her go at the end of this week. She's nice and ladylike, and willing--in fact, most anxious to please. But the work's too difficult for her. She's rather--rather--well, not exactly stupid, but slow." "Um," said Norman reflectively. "There's Miss Bostwick--perhaps she'll do." "Miss Bostwick got married last week." Norman smiled. He remembered the girl because she was the oldest and homeliest in the office. "There's somebody for everybody--eh, Tetlow?" "He was a lighthouse keeper," said Tetlow. "There's a story that he advertised for a wife. But that may be a joke." "Why not that Miss--Miss Halloway?" mused Norman. "Miss Hallowell," corrected Tetlow. "Hallowell--yes. Is she--_very_ incompetent? "Not exactly that. But business is slackening--and she's been only temporary--and----" Norman cut him off with, "Send her in." "You don't wish her dismissed? I haven't told her yet." "Oh, I'm not interfering in your department. Do as you like. . . . No--in this case--let her stay on for the present." "I can use her," said Tetlow. "And she gets only ten a week." Norman frowned. He did not like to _hear_ that an establishment in which he had control paid less than decent living wages--even if the market price did excuse--yes, compel it. "Send her in," he repeated. Then, as Tetlow was about to leave, "She is trustworthy?" "All our force is. I see to that, Mr. Norman." "Has she a young man--steady company, I think they call it?" "She has no friends at all. She's extremely shy--at least, reserved. Lives with her father, an old crank of an analytical chemist over in Jersey City. She hasn't even a lady friend." "Well, send her in." A moment later Norman, looking up from his work, saw the dim slim nonentity before him. Again he leaned back and, as he talked with her, studied her face to make sure that his first judgment was correct. "Do you stay late every night?" asked he smilingly. She colored a little, but enough to bring out the exquisite fineness of her white skin. "Oh, I don't mind," said she, and there was no embarrassment in her manner. "I've got to learn--and doing things over helps." "Nothing equal to it," declared Norman. "You've been to school?" "Only six weeks," confessed she. "I couldn't afford to stay longer." "I mean the other sort of school--not the typewriting."