"Who is she?" asked Dick, ignoring the other's laughter, and dodging his question.
"Who is she? Why I introduced you to her, man; her name is Amy Goodrich. Her daddy is that old duffer who keeps the hardware store, and is so eminently respectable that you can't get near him unless you have a pedigree and a bank account. Amy is the only daughter, but she has a brother though who takes after the old man. The girl takes after herself I reckon." Dick made no reply and Udell continued: "The whole family are members of the swellest church in the city, but the girl is the only one who works at it much. She teaches in the Mission Sunday School; leads in the Young People's Society and all that. I don't imagine the old folks like it though; too common you know." And he went off to look after the boy again, who was slowly but painfully running off the bill-heads that Dick had fixed on the press.
"What's the matter with him, George?" asked that individual, leaning wearily against the machine; "Did he faint agin, or was he havin' a fit?"
"You shut up and get that job off sometime this week," answered Udell, as he jerked the lever of the electric motor four notches to the right.
Just before the whistles blew for dinner, he again went back to Dick and stood looking over his shoulder at a bad bit of copy the latter was trying to decipher. "Well, what do you think about it?" he asked.
"She's divine," answered Dick absently, as he carefully placed a capital
A upside down.
George threw back his head and roared; "Well, you've got it sure," he said, when he could speak.
"Got what?" asked Dick in wonder.
"Oh, nothing," replied the other, going off with another shout. "But look here;" he said, after a moment; very serious this time; "Let me give you a piece of good advice, my friend; don't you go to thinking about that girl too much."
"What girl? Whose thinking about her? You need have no fears on that score," said Dick, a little sharply.