"What is it that is so astonishing?" asked Bethany, beginning to be amused. "Do you think it is presumptuous in me to aspire to such a position? I assure you I have a very fair speed."
"No," answered Mr. Edmunds, "it's not that; but I never any more thought of your going out in the world to make a living than a-a-a pet canary," he added, in confusion.
He seated himself again, and began tapping on the table with a paper-knife.
"Can't you paint, or give music lessons, or teach French?" he asked, half impatiently. "A girl brought up as you have been has no business jostling up against the world, especially the part of a world one sees in the court-room."
Bethany looked at him gravely.
"Yes," she answered, "I can do all those things after a fashion, but none of them well enough to measure up to my standard of proficiency, which is a high one. I do understand stenography, and I am confident I can do thorough, first-class work. I think, too, Mr. Edmunds, that it is a mistaken idea that the girl who has had the most sheltered home-life is the one least fitted to go into such places. Papa used to say we are like the planets; we carry our own atmosphere with us. I am sure one may carry the same personality into a reporter's stand that she would into a drawing-room. We need not necessarily change with our surroundings."
As she spoke, a slight tinge of pink flushed her cheeks, and she unconsciously raised her chin a trifle haughtily. Mr. Edmunds looked at her admiringly, and then made a gallant bow.
"I am sure, Miss Hallam would grace any position she might choose to fill," he said courteously.
"Then you will let me try," she asked, eagerly. She slipped off her glove, and took pencil and paper from the table. "If you will only test my speed, maybe you can make a decision sooner."
He dictated several pages, which she wrote to his entire satisfaction.