e with Mr. Lester
Armstrong, her father's assistant, of whom; she had heard him speak so
much and praise so highly.

She admired him immensely. Many a time she made excuses to speak with
her father a moment in their private office. No one in the wide world
guessed that grave, handsome Lester Armstrong was the attraction that
brought her there.

She had many a casual chat with him, and somehow the hope grew in her
heart that he was not altogether indifferent to her.

Once, when she had started home in the pouring rain, he had gone out of
his way to see her safely to her destination under the shelter of his
umbrella.

He had only been courteous, but she had built up many a hope from this
little incident alone.

She had not seen very much of Lester Armstrong since that
never-to-be-forgotten day, but her father had told her that he usually
asked each morning: "How is your daughter, Miss Margery?" and once her
father had said:

"Of all the young men whom I have met, I have the greatest regard for
Lester Armstrong. Such young men are the salt of the earth. There is a
future before him. When he earns a dollar he puts by more than half of
it against a rainy day. He is not extravagant. Few young men making his
salary would dress so very plainly and make his clothes do him as long.
He has no bad habits; he neither smokes nor drinks, and that is
something you can say of very few young men nowadays."

Margery looked up into her father's face with shining eyes. She made no
answer, but a vivid flush crept up into her cheeks, and the little hands
that were busy with the teacups trembled a little. She knew quite well
that in the depth of his heart her father was hoping that she and
Lester Armstrong would take a fancy to each other, and that in time
that fancy might ripen into love, and instead of being only
acquaintances, she and the assistant cashier might be nearer and dearer
to each other.

Not long after this Margery Conway received a letter, a poem, rather,
typewritten. There was no name signed to it, but she felt sure that it
came from some one in the establishment of Marsh & Co. More than one
salesman looked at pretty Margery Conway with admiring eyes, but she
never thought of any of these. The truth was, it was sent by one of the
bookkeepers, but the girl jumped at once to the conclusion that it was
from Lester Armstrong. She imagined that from the tender, sentimental
words. She read the beautiful poem over and over