ringing this disgrace down upon the most fashionable candy shop in New
York. You will ruin our business."

"Oh, Mr. Fleming," began Mary brokenly, "I don't understand what you
mean. I have done nothing, sir!"

"Nothing! _Nothing_! You and this miserable sister of yours!
Complaining to the police, are you, about men flirting with the girls
in my store? Do you think society women want to come to a shop where
the girls flirt with customers? No! I'm done right now. Get your hat
and get out of here!"

"Why, what do you mean?" gasped the girl, her fingers contracting and
twitching nervously.

"You're fired--bounced--ousted!" he cried. "That's what I mean." He
turned toward the other girls and in a strident voice, unmindful of the
two or three customers in the place, continued. "Let this be a lesson.
I will discharge every girl in the place if I see her flirting. The
idea!"

And he pompously walked back to his office as important as a toad in a
lonely puddle.

Mary turned to the counter, which she caught for support. One of the
girls ran to her, but Mrs. Trubus, standing close by, placed a motherly
arm about her waist.

"There, you poor dear. Don't you despair. This is a large world, and
there are more places for an honest, clever girl to work in than a
candy store run by a popinjay! You get your hat and get right into my
car, and I will take you down to my husband's office, and see what we
can do there. Come right along, now, with me."

"Oh, I must go home!" murmured Mary brokenly.

But at the elderly woman's insistence she walked back, unsteadily, to
the wardrobe room for her hat and coat.

"How dare you walk out the front way," raved the manager, as she was
leaving with Mrs. Trubus.

Mary did not hear him. The tears, a blessed relief, were coursing down
her flower-white cheeks as the kindly woman steadied her arm.

"Well! That suits me well enough," muttered Mr. Fleming
philosophically, as he retired to his private office. "I lost a lot at
poker last night--and here are two salaries for almost a full week that
won't go into anyone's pockets but my own. First, last and always, a
business man, say I."

CHAPTER XIV

CHARITY AND THE MULTITUDE OF SINS

In the outer office of William Trubus an amiable little scene was being
enacted, far different from the harrowing ones which had made up the
last twelve hours for poor Mary.

Miss Emerson, the telephone girl, was engaged in animated