curious mixture of cherub and Mephistopheles in type: round faced,
blue eyed, with smooth cheeks that looked pink even in the cruel
electric light. His hair and brushed-up eyebrows were thin and of a
medium brown; but he had a sharply waxed moustache and a little
pointed goatee or "imperial" so much darker in colour that they were
conspicuous objects.

He was talking to the girl in a high-keyed yet somewhat blustering
voice, asking questions which Win could not and did not try to hear.
The answers were given purposely in a low tone, and the girl laid on
the counter several papers from a little black bag at her waist. These
the superintendent took up, unfolding them with plump, dimpled
fingers, like those of a young woman.

With his bright, glancing blue eyes he skimmed the contents of each
paper--probably references, thought Win--and then returned them to
their owner.

"These are no good," he pronounced in a louder voice than before. "And
you don't look strong enough for Christmas work---"

Suddenly the red-haired girl darted her head forward, like that of a
pecking bird, hastily muttered a few words, and drew back, as if
hoping that those not concerned might fail to notice the manoeuvre.

"Oh--er--that's different," said the superintendent in an odd,
uncomfortable tone, with the hint of "bluster" still in it. Win
fancied she heard him add: "What salary?" In any case, the girl
mentioned the sum of eight dollars, and at the same time scribbled
something on a printed paper form pushed over the counter.

"Bet that ain't _your_ line, kid," there came a murmur round the
corner of a velvet bow on Win's hat. So faint was the murmur that she
might almost have dreamed it; but, if uttered, it must have dropped
from heaven or the lion tamer's lips.

Win was burning with curiosity. What two or three talismanic words
could the red-haired girl have whispered so quietly, so secretively,
to change in a second the superintendent's decision? It was almost
like freemasonry. You whispered to the hangman, and he, realizing that
you were a member, took the noose off your neck!

Alas, if Father refused her services, as he almost surely would, she
had no such magic charm to make him change his mind! There was
certainly a mystery, a secret password that did the trick; but the
lion tamer, though a newcomer in this business like herself, appeared
to know or guess, and bet that it "wasn't in her line."

Too late to ask questions! Her