few months by being so willing and ready to help any and all of us. Your office will be sort of general First Aider to whatever disabled department needs you. Do you see? Sort of official Filler-in," explained Miss Park. "Naturally, you'll have to give up the Alliance's courses you're taking, and those at the Art Museum" (for Reba had availed herself of opportunities outside as well as inside the Alliance), "but aren't you over-coursed by this time, my dear? Still," Miss Park shrugged and turned away, "you may not care to try it. It will take up most of your time." Then abruptly turning back, "How does it sound?" she asked point-blank.
"Like the ending of a fairy-tale!" exclaimed Reba, eyes shining.
"How pretty she can look!" thought Katherine Park.
A week later Reba was given her desk—a small, flat-topped affair, with a telephone on it, and over it a thrilling little piece of shellacked oak with "Miss Jerome" painted on it in clear black letters. It was difficult to believe that the competent-appearing young woman with the quiet unself-assertive manner seated beneath that small oak shingle was the same embarrassed, painfully ill-at-ease wisp of scared femininity who but a short eighteen months before, tightly pompadoured and primly dressed, had slunk timidly around the edges of the Alliance's class-rooms and parlors. Responsibility brought out latent qualities in Reba, as Katherine Park had persuaded the Board of Managers it might. Her shy, retiring manner still clung to her, of course—always would. She colored whenever a stranger approached her desk; and had to swal-
