"I'm not very fast," she whispered to him, and then tremblingly placed her pencil at attention on the pad.
The stranger took compassion. Slowly his words came, distinctly, kindly even! There was a friend here!
Marcus stared in amazement. Good Heavens! Had the girl picked up somewhere a flimsy smattering of stenography, and dared she to come flaunting it here in his face? Obviously. His first impulse was to shake her and send her home to her mother. Silly little dilettante creature; trying to be smart and clever; making little dots and curves. Shorthand! Humph! Fancy-work to her! He'd settle her!
He did not glance at her as she left the private office ten minutes later. He made no sign of recognition throughout the afternoon. At five o'clock when he left to go home, he approached her corner, where, full of foreboding anxiety, Ada sat working and waiting.
"I want a copy of this advertising matter made and mailed to-night," he said briefly.
Ada glanced through the material. It would take two hours at best, and there was her regular work besides.
"All right," she said; and then, timidly:
