“I believe I got a long distance for you the other day.  I’m on the telephone desk, you know.  Stenography is only a side issue.”

He still gazed at her admiringly, quick to note her well-bred manner, her quiet aloofness, unusual in girls of her occupation.

“I remember,” he nodded.  “We had quite some difficulty in getting in touch with Washington.”

“Yes—­there was trouble on the wires.”

“But we got it at last, didn’t we?” he smiled, making an effort to break the ice and be friendly.

But Virginia intended to stick strictly to business.  She must make it plain that hers was not a social call.  Quickly changing the topic, she asked: 

“Is the dictation ready?”

Stafford would have liked to continue the personal conversation.  After all, there was no immediate necessity of getting to work; the correspondence could wait.  But there was an icy haughtiness in the girl’s demeanor that discouraged any further attempt at getting acquainted.  Proceeding therefore to business, he picked up a paper from the desk and commenced to dictate a letter.

CHAPTER V

The loss of her mother, following so soon after the death of her father, had come as a terrible shock to Virginia.  She felt it more keenly even than Fanny, not only because her nature was more sensitive and impressionable, but also because she realized that she had been suddenly robbed of a constant and devoted companion.  Fanny, who was now officially engaged to Mr. Gillie, was nearly always in his company, with the result that Virginia, more particular and more exacting in the choice of acquaintances than her sister, found the world emptier and more lonely than ever.

Graduation day had come and gone and the dress which her poor mother had not lived to finish, had to be completed by other hands.  At the end of her school days and now practically alone, with no one to look to for support, Virginia began to think seriously of the future.  She must get something to do, that was very certain.  Fanny would soon have Jimmie to look after her, but she herself must depend on her own exertion.  She was a long time making up her mind what she would do.  Her education fitted her for a teacher, but she shrank from the idea.  Never would she have the patience.  Then she thought of trying to write for the papers or magazines.  That, also, was rejected.  It was too precarious; she had had no experience.  There was the stage.  No—­that would not do.  She did not like the environments.  There remained only the alternative of being a saleswoman in a department store or a stenographer.  Having taken a course in shorthand, and being fairly proficient, she chose the latter, and, thanks to the influence and good offices of Dr. Everett, at last succeeded in securing a fairly remunerative position.