mighty glad for both of you. She was fitted for
something a whole lot bigger than Wall Street."

"She taught me all I know about the game," confessed Don.

"You couldn't have had a better teacher. Sit down. I want to talk over
a change I have in mind."

Don felt his heart leap to his throat.

"I've wanted for some time another man to go out and sell," said
Farnsworth. "Do you think you can handle it?"

"You bet," exclaimed Don.

Farnsworth smiled.

"You see," ran on Don in explanation, "I've been selling bonds to
Sally--er--Mrs. Pendleton, for a month or more now."

"Selling her?"

"Imaginary bonds, you know."

Farnsworth threw back his head and laughed.

"Good! Good! But the true test will come when you try to sell her a
real one. I'll bet it will have to be gilt-edged."

"And cheap," nodded Don.

"Well," said Farnsworth, "I want to try you on the selling staff for a
while, anyway. Now, about salary--"

"Sally told me to forget that," said Don.

"I guess because she knew me well enough to know I wouldn't forget it.
My intention is to pay men in this office what they are worth. Just
what you may be worth in your new position I don't know, but I'm going
to advance you five hundred; and if you make good you'll be paid in
proportion as you make good. That satisfactory?"

"Absolutely."

"Then we're off," concluded Farnsworth.

Don met Sally at noon at the dairy lunch where they had gone so
often.

"Come on, little woman," he greeted her. "This place may be all right
for the wife of a clerk, but now you're the wife of a bond salesman."

"Don!"

"On a five-hundred-dollar raise."

"We'll stay right here," she said; "but I'm going to celebrate by
having two chocolate eclairs."

CHAPTER XXXV

"HOME, JOHN"

In December of the following year Frances came into her mother's room
one afternoon, drawing on her gloves.

"Your new gown is very pretty," her mother said. "Where are you
calling?"

"I have bridge at the Warrens' at four," she answered. "But I thought
I might have time before that to drop in at Don's. He has telephoned
me half a dozen times to call and see his baby, and I suppose he'll
keep on until I go."

"You really ought to go."

Frances became petulant. "Oh, I know it, but--after all, a baby
_isn't_ interesting."

"They say it's a pretty baby. It's a boy, isn't it?"

"I don't know. Why don't you come along with me?"

"I'm not dressed, dear, but please to extend my co