car stopped in the
crowded mercantile portion of lower Broadway.

Patty got out, and looked a little apprehensively at the unfamiliar
surroundings. "Wait for me," she said to Miller, and then turned
determinedly to the door.

Yes, the number was right. There was the sign, "Monongahela Art
Embroidery Company," on the window. Patty opened the big door, and went
in.

She had fancied it would be like the shops to which she was accustomed,
where polite floor-walkers stepped up and asked her wishes, but it was
not at all like that.

It was more like a large warehouse. Partitions that rose only part way to
the ceiling divided off small rooms or departments, all of which were
piled high with boxes or crates. The aisles between these were narrow,
and the whole place was rather dark. Moreover, there seemed to be nobody
about.

Patty sat down in a chair and waited a few moments, but no one appeared,
so she got up again.

"Here's where I need my pluck," she said to herself, not frightened, but
wondering at the situation. "I'll go ahead, but I feel like Alice in
Wonderland. I know I'll fall into a treacle well."

She traversed half the length of the long building, when she saw a man,
writing in one of the small compartments.

He looked up at her, and then, apparently without interest in her
presence there, resumed his work.

Patty was a little annoyed at what she thought discourtesy, and said:

"I've come to answer your advertisement."

"Fourth floor," said the man, indicating the direction by pointing his
penholder across the room, but not looking up.

"Thank you," said Patty, in a tone intended to rebuke his own lack of
manners.

But he only went on writing, and she turned to look for the elevator.

She could see none, however, so she walked on, thinking how like a maze
was this succession of small rooms and little cross aisles. When she saw
another man writing in another coop, she said politely:

"Will you please direct me to the elevator?"

"What?" said the man, looking at her.

Patty repeated her request.

"Ain't none," he said. "Want work?"

Though unpolished, he was not rude, and after a moment's hesitation,
Patty said, "Yes, I do."

"Have to hoof it, then. Three flights up; Department G."

"All right," said Patty, whose spirits always rose when she encountered
difficulties. She saw the staircase, now; a rough, wooden structure of
unplaned boards, and no balusters. But she trudged up the long flig