ona, you swear out a warrant and I'll have him arrested," stammered
the employer.

She checked a chirrup of laughter and her smile faded when she opened
her eyes on Britt's sourness.

"There's a law about hectoring and insulting a female person on the
street--some kind of a law--and we'll invoke it in this case," Britt
insisted.

"Why, Mr. Britt, he's only a harmless old man with extremely poor
judgment about most things, including a girl's looks," she protested.

"Don't you call that gabble an insult to you, walking along and minding
your own business?" His heat was alarming; he shook his fist to indicate
the Prophet.

She was unable to restrain her demure smile. "The specifications, sir,
are overflattering; but I'm sure I don't feel insulted."

In the past Britt had purred paternally in her presence and had stared
at her in a way that often disconcerted her. Now his expression alarmed
her. His face grew red. At first she thought he was embarrassed by
the reflection that he had been terming the Prophet's compliments an
insult--intimating that she had no claim to such compliments. But Mr.
Britt did not bother to deal with that phase of the matter. The flame
was shifted from his face to his eyes; his cheeks grew pale. He tried
to put his arm about her. She set her gloved hands against the arm and
pushed it away, fright popping her eyelids wide apart.

"I want to protect you," Britt stuttered. "I don't want any harm or
trouble to come to you."

He stepped back and gazed at her imploringly. His abashed obedience, his
promptness in desisting, restored her self-possession immediately. She
had the air of one who had misunderstood friendly interest. "Oh, Mr.
Britt, I know you have a kind heart underneath your--I mean that folks
don't realize how good you are unless they are near to you, as Frank
and I are. We often speak of it." She hurried on. She opened the door
admitting to the bank from the corridor and cheerily called her "Good
morning!" to the cashier as she crossed the threshold.

Mr. Britt stood in his tracks in the corridor after she closed the door.
He stared at the floor with eyes that saw nothing. He slowly raised
his hand and set his right index finger upon the toupee and scratched
meditatively through the mesh--scratched carefully, having accustomed
himself to handling his boughten hair with cautious touch. He had not
liked her intonation when she said "Frank and I." He muttered something
about his fee