Happie felt better; these lads evidently liked Bob.
Mr. Felton came out of his sanctum and smiled kindly at Bob's emissary.
"Sorry to hear that Scollard is laid up. Nothing serious, I hope?" he said.
"No, sir," said Happie. "But he can't use his foot, and won't be able to use it for at least a week. I came down because I want to take his place here until he is able to be about. I am quite good at accounts—we studied together—and I think I can be useful. Please let me try."
Mr. Felton laughed. "So you are made of the same cloth as your brother. It is exactly like him not to forget his duties here when he is hurt, but he needn't have sent you as a substitute; I can get along."
"He didn't send me, I came—but of course he was glad when I said I thought I could come. What shall I do first?" asked Happie, looking around in a businesslike way.
"Open those letters on your brother's desk, sort them into their classes; bills, paid and unpaid, applications for houses, offices, apartments, etc., and general correspondence. Then add up that rent roll there," said Mr. Felton indicating papers on Bob's desk. He went back into his inner office and Happie hung up her coat and hat on the hook pointed out to her by one of "the other boys," as she told herself, climbed on Bob's stool and went to work.
The three young men in the office were ready with suggestions and information and Happie accomplished her tasks fairly well through a day that was not as long as it would have been in an office further down in town. It was long enough, however, to her unaccustomed muscles, perched for so many hours on a stool that strained her knees, with her back bent over a desk.
"Shall I come back, Mr. Felton? To-morrow, I mean, and until Bob can come himself?" she asked when Mr. Felton bade his little force good-night.
"Why, if you like," he replied, smiling into Happie's eager face.