the prettier one, as if the fact of her roselike face did not altogether escape him, that he was feeling the need of a vacation and would close the office for a couple of weeks.  At the end of that period they might report.  Carroll owed both of these girls; both remembered that fact; both reflected on the possibility of their services being no longer required, but such was the unconscious masculine charm of the man over their foolish and irresponsible feminity that they questioned nothing.  Their eyes regarded him half-shyly, half-boldly under their crests of blond pompadours.  The younger and prettier blushed sweetly, and laughed consciously, as if she saw herself in a mirror; the other’s face deepened like a word under a strenuous pencil—­the lines in it grew accentuated.  Going down-stairs, the pretty girl nudged the other almost painfully in the side.

“Say,” she whispered, “did you see him stare at me.  Eh?”

The other girl drew away angrily.  “I don’t know as I did,” she replied, in a curt tone.

“He stared like everything.  Say, I don’t believe he’s married.”

“I don’t see what difference it makes to you whether he’s married or not.”

“Sho!  Guess I wouldn’t be seen goin’ with a married man.  What do you take me for, Sadie Smith?”

“Wait till there’s any question of goin’ before you worry.  I would.”

“Maybe I sha’n’t have to wait long,” giggled the other.  When she reached the sidewalk, she stood balancing herself airily, swinging her arms, keeping up a continuous flutter of motion like a bird, to keep warm, for the wind blew cold down Broadway.  She was really radiant, vibrant with nerves and young blood, sparkling and dimpling, and bubbling over, as it were, with perfect satisfaction with herself and perfect assurance of what lay before her.  The other stood rather soberly beside her.  They were both waiting for a car up Broadway.  The young man who was in love with the pretty one came clattering down the stairs.  There had been something wrong with the elevator, and it was being repaired.  He also had to wait for a car, and he joined the girls.  He approached the pretty girl and timidly pressed his shoulder against hers in its trim, light jacket.  She drew away from him with a sharp thrust of the elbow.

“Go ’long,” said she, forcibly.  She laughed, but she was evidently in earnest.

The young man was not much abashed.  He stood regarding her, winking fast.

“Say,” he said, with a cautious glance around at the staircase, “s’pose the boss is goin’ to quit?”

Both girls turned and stared at him.  The elder turned quite pale.

“What do you mean, talking so?” said she, sharply.

“Nothin’, only I thought it was a kind of queer time of year for a man to take a vacation, a man as busy as the boss seems to be.  And—­it kind of entered my head—­”

“If anything entered your head, do, for goodness’ sake, hang on to it,” said the pretty girl, pertly.  Then her car whirred over the crossing and ground to a standstill, and she sprang on it with a laugh at her own wit.  “Good-night,” she called back.