Athalie

Mr. Grossman came in, leered at her, said that Mr. Wahlbaum would be

down next day, lingered furtively as long as he quite dared, then took

himself off, still leering.

In the afternoon Athalie was notified that her salary had been raised.

She went home, elated and deeply touched by the generosity of Mr.

Wahlbaum, scarcely able to wait for the morrow to express her

gratitude to this good, kind man.

But on the morrow Mr. Wahlbaum was not there; nor did he come the day

after, nor the day after that.

The following Tuesday she was seated in the office and generally

occupied with business provided for her by the thrifty Mr. Grossman,

when that same gentleman came into the office on tiptoe.

"Mr. Wahlbaum has just died," he said.

In the sudden shock and consternation she had risen from her chair,

and stood there, one hand resting on her desk top for support.

"Pneumonia," nodded Mr. Grossman. "Sam he smoked too much all the

time. That is what done it, Miss Greensleeve."

Her hands crept to her eyes, covered them convulsively. "Oh!" she

breathed--"Oh!"

And, for a moment was not aware of the arm of Mr. Grossman around her

waist,--until it tightened unctuously.

"Dearie," he murmured, "don't you take on so hard. You ain't goin' to

lose your job, because I'm a-goin' to be your best friend same like he

was--"

With a shudder she stepped clear of him; he caught her by the waist

again and kissed her; and she wrenched herself free and turned

fiercely on him as he advanced again, smirking, watery of eye, arms

outstretched.

Then in the overwhelming revulsion and horror of the act and of the

moment chosen for it when death's shadow already lay dark upon this

vast and busy monument to her dead friend, she turned on him her dark

blue eyes ablaze; and to her twisted, outraged lips flew, unbidden,

the furious anathema of her ragged childhood: "Damn you!" she stammered,--"damn you!" And struck him across the

face.

* * * * *

Which impulsive and unconsidered proceeding left two at home out of

work, herself and Doris. Also there was very little more for

Catharine to do, the dull season at Winton's having arrived.

"Any honest job," repeated Doris when she and Athalie and Catharine

met at evening after an all-day's profitless search for that sort of

work; but honest jobs did not seem to be very plentiful in June,

although any number of the other sort were to be had almost without

the asking.