Faith looked at him timidly. He was a silly looking young man who wore a flaming red necktie and curled the ends of his mustache.
"Another tyrant," thought Faith, but she only bowed respectfully. Already in her short term of service she was getting used to tyrants.
"I am going to put you in Miss Jennings' place for a day or two," was the buyer's greeting. "I am short of girls, so you will have to do. Miss Jones will tell you what you don't know about the stock, and I hope you'll be very careful in your measurement of the ribbon."
"I will do my best," said Faith, very sadly. She was soon standing behind the counter, a full-fledged saleswoman. For some reason there had been nothing said about the half day that she had lost, but Faith knew only too well that she would be heavily fined for her absence. Still, it was better than being discharged. She accepted the alternative thankfully.
If Bob Hardy was in the store he kept out of the ribbon department, for Faith looked around for him nervously several times, and was greatly relieved when she did not see him.
Once she overheard two cash girls talking about the robbery in the office, and as they mentioned the name of Watkins she paused involuntarily and listened.
"They say he's got brain fever," said one of the girls. "Well, I'd think he'd be crazy with all that's happened."
"It must be awful," said the other girl. "Why, his brother was only a kid, and, to think, he stole five hundred dollars!"
Faith almost gasped for breath at this information.
She tried to speak to the girl, but her lips and tongue seemed palsied. She understood now what poor Mr. Watkins had suffered, and to think she had distrusted him—even for one brief second!