She got confidence in herself from the ease with which she satisfied Mr. Ross by her cold, canned compliments. And though she was often dizzied by the whirling dynamo of Pemberton's, she was not bored by the routine of valeting Mr. Ross in his actual work.... For Mr. Ross actually did work now and then, though his chief duty was to make an impression on old Mr. Pemberton, his sons, and the other big chiefs. Still, he did condescend to "put his O. K." on pictures, on copy and proof for magazine advertisements, car cards, window-display "cut-outs," and he dictated highly ethical reading matter for the house organ, which was distributed to ten thousand drug-stores, and which spoke well of honesty, feminine beauty, gardening, and Pemberton's. Occasionally he had a really useful idea, like the celebrated slogan, "_Pemberton's_ Means PURE," which you see in every street-car, on every fourth or fifth bill-board. It is frequent as the "In God We Trust" on our coins, and at least as accurate. This slogan, he told Una, surpassed "A train every hour on the hour," or "The watch that made the dollar famous," or, "The ham what am," or any of the other masterpieces of lyric advertising. He had created it after going into a sibyllic trance of five days, during which he had drunk champagne and black coffee, and ridden about in hansoms, delicately brushing his nose with a genuine California poppy from the Monterey garden of R. L. S. If Mr. Ross was somewhat agitating, he was calm as the desert compared with the rest of Pemberton's. His office, which was like a million-dollar hotel lobby, and Una's own den, which was like the baggage-porter's den adjoining the same, were the only spots at Pemberton's where Una felt secure. Outside of them, fourteen stories up in the titanic factory, was an enormous office-floor, which was a wilderness of desks, toilet-rooms, elevators, waiting-rooms, filing-cabinets. Her own personality was absorbed in the cosmic (though soapy) personality of Pemberton's. Instead of longing for a change, she clung to her own corner, its desk and spring-back chair, and the insurance calendar with a high-colored picture of Washington's farewell. She preferred to rest here rather than in the "club-room and rest-room for women employees," on which Mr. Pemberton so prided himself.