"It's no use, I tell you, Faith. His heart is like stone. You'll only lose your place. Take my advice and don't do it."
Faith smiled at her brightly as she read the words. They were characteristic of Miss Jennings, philosophic but bitter.
A few minutes later a dashing young man passed by the counter. The clerks all seemed to know him, and several of the prettiest girls in the department smiled at him openly in a way that Faith thought very immodest. As he caught sight of the new packer he stopped abruptly and stared at her.
"Who the deuce is that?" Faith heard him say to one of the saleswomen, a girl whose cheeks were flaming with paint and whose appearance was that of a very vulgar person.
"I'm sure I don't know, Mr. Denton," replied the girl, with a simper. "She's a new packer that was taken on this morning. I haven't heard her name, and I don't know as I want to."
"Oh, you're jealous of her, are you, Mag?" said the young man with a laugh. "Well, I don't wonder, for she is a peach. I'm in love with her this minute!"
"You're a flirt, all right, Mr. Denton," said the girl, with a pout. "I think she's as awkward as anything, and her color is abominable."
"She's as fresh as a daisy," was the young man's answer. "Forbes had an eye for beauty when he hired that lovely creature."
"You men have queer taste," snapped the saleswoman, angrily, but the young man had passed on, staring at Faith all the way. Miss Fairbanks greeted him with a bow that was positively servile.
"That's old Denton's son Jim," explained Miss Jennings to Faith as she handed up a check. "He's a regular masher. Comes in here every few days, just to flirt with the girls. They say he's very wild and costs his father a lot of money."