"Why not have it in the evening?" suggested Mr. Denton. He had found his voice at last, and came to the superintendent's rescue.
"The girls are so tired at night," said Faith, sighing. "I thought of that—but it did not seem advisable."
"We might arrange for a few of you to be away on that day. Surely, you were not all Miss Jennings' friends; there is no excuse for the whole store going into mourning."
Mr. Forbes spoke decidedly and with a little of his old crustiness. The spell of the girl's magnetism was beginning to leave him.
"That would mean extra work for the clerks who remained," was Faith's desperate answer, "and poor Mary would be the first to object to that. Their duties are hard enough now. Oh, no, sir; I am sure that would not be thought of for a minute. If there is work to be done, we will all stay and do it, but if you only would relieve us for a few hours, we would be deeply grateful."
"It wouldn't do at all, Mr. Forbes!"
Mr. Day spoke, if anything, more pompously than ever. "Pardon me, but we have lost one day this week. We can't afford another."
"That settles it," said the superintendent, wheeling around in his chair. "You will please return to your duties, Miss Marvin; we cannot allow your petition."
Faith walked slowly from the office with the tears springing to her eyes. Before she reached the ribbon counter a floor walker stepped up to her. She had never seen him before, but recognized him at once as the Mr. Gunning whom she had heard the girls say belonged in that department, but was away just then upon a short vacation.
"You have been gone more than fifteen minutes, No. 411," he said, sharply. "Hurry over to your counter; Miss Fairbanks wishes to see you."