companion had not stopped her in a whisper.

"It's no use, Faith; she won't believe it, or, if she did, she'd say I had no right to cough. Poor devil! She treats the people under her just as Forbes treats her. They are a lot of slave drivers and slaves together!"

Faith crawled up to her desk feeling sick at heart. She was overwhelmed with the knowledge of evil which was being forced upon her.

During the afternoon she found time to write a few words on a bit of paper and slip it into Miss Jennings' hand without the buyer seeing her.

"Dear Mary," she wrote, "don't give up in despair. I am sure that Mr. Denton is a good man, only weak and indifferent. I shall pray to-night that God will open his eyes—then to-morrow I shall try personally to talk to him, for I believe that prayer and effort should always go together. Who knows but that I may be able to brighten things a little? It certainly is worth trying for—to bring the light into dark places."

Miss Jennings watched her chance and handed back her reply.

"It's no use, I tell you, Faith. His heart is like stone. You'll only lose your place. Take my advice and don't do it."

Faith smiled at her brightly as she read the words. They were characteristic of Miss Jennings, philosophic but bitter.

A few minutes later a dashing young man passed by the counter. The clerks all seemed to know him, and several of the prettiest girls in the department smiled at him openly in a way that Faith thought very immodest. As he caught sight of the new packer he stopped abruptly and stared at her.

"Who the deuce is that?" Faith heard him say to one of the saleswomen, a girl whose cheeks were flaming with paint and whose appearance was that of a very vulgar person.

"I'm sure I don't know, Mr. Denton," replied the girl, with a simper. "She's a new packer that was taken on this morning. I haven't heard her name, and I don't know as I want to."

"Oh, you're jealous of her, are you, Mag?" said the young man with a laugh. "Well, I don't wonder, for she is a peach. I'm in love with her this minute!"

"You're a flirt, all right, Mr. Denton," said the girl, with a pout. "I think she's as awkward as anything, and her color is abominable."

"She's as fresh as a daisy," was the young man's answer. "Forbes had an eye for beauty when he hired that lovely creature."

"You men have queer taste," snapped the saleswoman, angrily, but the young man had passed on, staring at Faith all the way. Miss Fairbanks greeted him with a bow that was positively servile.

"That's old Denton's son Jim," explained Miss Jennings to Faith as she handed up a check. "He's a regular masher. Comes in here every few days, just to flirt with the girls. They say he's very wild and costs his father a lot of money."

"He is very bold," was Faith's whispered answer. "Why, he stared at me as if I were a dummy instead of a lady."

"Oh, we are none of us ladies: we are only clerks," replied Miss Jennings, bitterly. "If we were to snub Jim Denton he would make a lot of trouble for us."

"Mercy!" cried Faith. "It doesn't seem possible! Why, there seems to be pitfalls on every side for the girl who earns her own living."

Miss Fairbanks was coming, so the conversation was ended abruptly.

Miss Jennings went back to a customer who had just stopped at the counter.

"Show me some yellow ribbon, right away, miss," she said, very sharply. "I want to match this sample. Here, take a good look at it!"

Faith glanced down and saw that the customer was an ignorant-looking woman. She had on tawdry clothing and a lot of cheap jewelry.

Miss Jennings took the sample and glanced at it sharply.

"Do you wish exactly the same shade and width?" she asked, very politely.

"Of course! What did you suppose I brought the sample for if I don't?" cried the woman. "You must be a dunce to ask such a question!"

Faith felt her cheeks grow hot at this arrogant insult, but Miss Jennings replied as quietly as ever, "I cannot give you the same shade nor the same width exactly, madam. This is the nearest I have."

She handed her a roll that was a little different from the sample.

"But you must have it! Look again!" commanded the woman, angrily. "You are just trying to save yourself trouble, you lazy hussy!"

Miss Jennings turned very indifferently and called to another of the saleswomen:

"Miss Jones, have we any number twelve lemon in reserve? Here's a sample, and this lady is anxious to match it."

Miss Jones glanced at the sample that Miss Jennings was holding.

"You know very well that we are all out of that," she replied, sharply. "How often have I told you not to bother me with such questions!"

Miss Jennings handed the sample to the customer without the slightest trace of emotion.

"The 'head of stock' says we have none. I trust you will believe her, madam."

The woman snatched her sample and hurried away, while Miss Jennings went to another customer as calmly as though nothing had happened.

Faith drew a long breath. Her cheeks were fairly tingling. She glanced about a little to see whether any one else had noticed the transaction.

The clerks were all moving about in their automatic way. It was plain that such occurrences as this amounted to nothing.

Suddenly Faith's glance rested on a young man who was standing in the aisle where he could watch her every movement.

As their eyes met he raised his hat and smiled at her brazenly.

Faith gasped for breath. Her insulter was young Denton.

CHAPTER VI.

FAITH DISCOVERS A FRESH HORROR.

Faith dropped her eyes to her desk so that she would not see the fellow, but she could still feel the insulting gaze that was bent upon her.

She was glad when a great crowd of shoppers came surging in at the big doors, for the afternoons were always far busier than the mornings at this establishment.

Faith soon began to wonder if the goods could possibly come up to be wrapped very much faster. Her arms as well as her back were aching. The clerks were screaming for cash girls every other minute, for besides the packer above each counter there were a number of others at different points throughout the store and all were as busy as bees through the rush hours.

"There's no rest for the weary."

It was Miss Jennings who spoke. She was talking to a customer, a fine-looking old lady.

"I expect there isn't, dear," said the lady, pleasantly. "And you do look fagged out—I declare if you don't. I hope you get good pay for standing all day behind this counter!"

Miss Jennings laughed in her harsh, dry way.

"I won't shock you by telling you what I get," she said wearily. "But if all my customers were like you it would not matter so much. It's a pleasure to wait upon you! I hope you'll come often."

"Dear, dear! Well, I'm sorry if they are not all kind to you," said the lady. "It is hard to have to work, but there is some good reason for it. It will all come right by and by; but tell me, child, what in the world is the matter?"

There was a terrible racket on the floor overhead. As the lady asked the question a perfect bedlam broke loose.

The next second the cry of "Fire!" was heard all over the building.

"Quick! Come behind the counter, madam!" cried Miss Jennings, trying to draw the old lady through the gate. "There's a panic on the stairs! The mob will sweep through here directly!"

In less than a minute her words came true. There was a fearful rush of feet overhead, then with shrill shrieks of fright great crowds of women and children swept down the stairway. These were swelled by a small army of male and female clerks, until the whole lower floor was filled with a mob of struggling, pushing, human beings.

Miss Jennings succeeded in dragging the kind old lady behind the counter, then she began