ss:

"Pause, Giovanni! Pause! He may have a mother!"

Ordinarily Miss Featherington would have raced through the pages
hungrily, avidly. Not so on this fair November afternoon. Whether it
was the mince pie and melted cheese she had partaken of a bare hour
before, or whether it was the even-more-so-than-usual grumpy mood of
her employer, Joshua Barnes, she could not tell. Perhaps it was
neither. She refused to analyze it. Whatever the cause, she felt heavy
and wistful and sad.

From time to time the emotional Miss Featherington allowed Whitney
Barnes to flit through the corridors of her imagination. He had walked
heavily through her dreams the night before. His strange words of
yesterday had strangely moved her. Desperately she had striven to
solve the mystery. Were they words of love? If so, how would Old Grim
Barnes accept the declaration from his son's lips that he loved the
humble though, yes, though beautiful stenographer lady of the Barnes
Mustard Company, Limited?

Miss Featherington had half expected to walk into Joshua Barnes's
presence that morning and meet with a torrent of abuse. She had
rehearsed a cold and haughty retort. But her employer had greeted her
with a gruff, "Good-morning," and an expression that was equivalent to
a smile.

Alas! the prince had not spoken.

Marietta pounded out forty-two letters containing references to as
many different kinds of assorted and selected mustard before she
succeeded in dismissing the heir to the mustard millions from her
romantic thoughts and creating a new hero in his stead. The new hero
some way fell down and she picked up "Lily the Lovely Laundress." But
even the "Lovely Lily" failed to thrill and she laid the book aside.

A long sigh was escaping from the depressed maiden's bosom when the
door of the anteroom opened and who should enter but Whitney Barnes.
Marietta swallowed her sigh and clasped her hand over her palpitating
heart.

The young man was not alone, however, and he did not deign Miss
Featherington a glance as he held the door open and cried:

"Come in, children!"

The children were none other than Helen and Sadie and Travers Gladwin.
Nor did they deign Miss Featherington a glance as they assembled in a
little group, talking in hushed tones and punctuating their talk with
suppressed laughter.

By the time Whitney Barnes did turn to Marietta that young lady's nose
was elevated to an excruciating angle--so much so that she was unable
to f