The two clerks glanced at each other, at Happie, crimson, half laughing, half crying, at Dan, furious, but cowed, and they beamed appreciatively. "Not a bit!" they cried together.
"This young lady has been good enough to help us out here for the past four days, because her brother was laid up and she took his place. Dan has not been disagreeable till now. If we had caught him making a nuisance of himself—to her especially—we should have pounded him to pulp," said the elder.
"Certainly," agreed the visitor. "Fun is all right, but a boy must never forget what is due a lady. The trouble with you, Master Cub, is a wrong sense of humor. You'll have to learn that rudeness is never funny, much less clever. If you've copied the list I'll take it now, please."
"Copy your own lists," growled Dan. "I'll never touch a pen for you."
"A pencil would do as well," returned the stranger unperturbed, while Happie cried, "Let me copy the addresses, please. I am ever and ever so much obliged to you."
The tall young man laid the papers from Dan's desk on hers, bowing and laughing. "It wasn't the copying you minded then? And you're entirely welcome. We do enjoy a little muscle play once in a while, don't we?"
"Sometimes we do, when they're needed, and our own aren't strong enough," returned Happie, copying away for dear life, with her flushed cheek bent low over her paper. She finished the few lines of addresses quickly, and handed them to her defender with a grateful smile, slipping from her stool as she did so.
The young man took them, thanking her, and noting how youthful she was with her reddish brown hair standing out around her dimpled cheeks, and her skirt at ankle length. Then he took his departure, with renewed thanks to the senior clerk and a nod to Dan, who glared at him with a soul far from forgivingly at peace.