"What we've got to-day ought to land something," I maintained. "You've been fine help, Barbara--" and I broke off suddenly with the knowledge that I'd been calling her that all through the rush of the work. "Thank you." She smiled inclusively. I knew she meant my use of her name as well as my commendation. I began clearing my desk preparatory to leaving. Worth was going to take her home and as he brought her coat, he spoke again of the suitcase. "Hey, there!" I remonstrated, "You don't want to be lugging that thing with you everywhere, like a three-year-old kid that's found a dead cat. Leave it where it is." "Give me an order for it then," he said. And when I looked surprised, "Might need that box, and you not be in the office." "Need it?" I grumbled. "I'd like to know what for." But I scribbled the order. Over by the window the young people were talking together earnestly; they made a picture against the light, standing close, the girl's vivid dark face raised, the lad's tall head bent, attentive. "But, Bobs, you must get some time to play about," I heard Worth say. "Awfully little," Her look up at him was like that of a wistful child. "You said you were in the accounting department," he urged impatiently. "A lightning calculator like you could put that stuff through in about one tenth of the usual time." "I use an adding machine," she half whispered, and it made me chuckle. "An adding machine!" Worth exploded in a peal of laughter. "For Barbara Wallace! What's their idea?" "It isn't their idea; it's mine," with dignity. "They don't know that I used to be a freak mathematician. I don't want them to. Father used to say that all children could be trained to do all that I did--if you took them young enough. But till they are, I'd rather not be. It's horrid to be different; and I'm keeping it to myself--in the office anyhow--and living my past down the best I can." As though her words had suggested it, Worth spoke again, "Where did you meet Cummings? Seems you find time to go out with him." "I've known Mr. Cummings for years," Barbara spoke quietly, but she looked self-conscious. "I knew he was with those friends of mine at the Orpheum last night, but I didn't expect him to call for me at Tait's--or rather I thought they'd all come in after me. There wasn't anything special about it--no special appointment with him, I mean." I had forgotten them for a minute or two, closing my desk, finding my coat, when I heard some one come into the outer office, a visitor, for little Pete's voice went up to a shrill yap with the information that I was busy. Then the knob turned, the door opened, and there stood Cummings. At first he saw only me at the desk.