"I was a New England country minister's daughter," she began. "New England country ministers always know lots about Greek and Latin and how to make one dollar do the work of one-seventy-five, but they never have any dollars left when the doing's over. Father and I lived alone together always, and he taught me things, and I petted him—fathers need it, specially when they have country congregations—and we didn't bother much about other folks. Then he—died. I was eighteen, and I had six hundred dollars. I couldn't do arithmetic, because Father had always said it was left out of my head, and I needn't bother with it. So I couldn't teach. Then they said, 'You like books, and you'd better be a librarian.' As a matter of fact, a librarian never gets a chance to read, but you can't explain that to the general public. So I came to the city and took the course at library school. Then I got a position in the Greenway Branch—two years in the circulating desk, four in the cataloguing room, and one in the Children's Department. The short and simple annals of the poor!"
"Go on," said Allan.
"I believe it's merely that you like the sound of the human voice," said Phyllis, laughing. "I'm going to go on with the story of the Five Little Pigs—you'll enjoy it just as much!"
"Exactly," said Allan. "Tell me what it was like in the library, please."
"It was rather interesting," said Phyllis, yielding at once. "There are so many different things to be done that you never feel any monotony, as I suppose a teacher does. But the hours are not much shorter than a department store's, and it's exacting, on-your-feet work all the time. I liked the work with the children best. Only—you never have any time to be anything but neat in a library, and you do get so tired of being just neat, if you're a girl."
"And a pretty one," said Allan. "I don't suppose the ugly ones mind as much."
It was the first thing he had said about her looks. Phyllis's ready color came into her cheeks. So he thought she was pretty!
"Do you—think I'm pretty?" she asked breathlessly. She couldn't help it.
"Of course I do, you little goose," said Allan, smiling at her.
Phyllis plunged back into the middle of her story: