mily that whenever Mary attempted
anything with the eagerness with which she proposed this plan, she
always carried it through triumphantly, and Jack's face showed his
relief as he promptly accepted her offer.

"No use for you to come down this afternoon," he said. "I'll be too busy
looking after other things to give any time to letters."

"But I can be making the acquaintance of the machine," answered Mary.
"Madam Chartley's stenographer learned to run hers simply by studying
the book of instructions. And if it won't bother you to hear me clicking
away I'll put in the whole afternoon practising."

[Illustration: "SEVERAL TIMES SHE STOPPED JACK IN PASSING TO ASK HIM A
QUESTION."]

So when Jack went back to the office, Mary went with him, happy and
excited over this unexpected entrance into the world of Business.

"Who knows but what this may be a stepping-stone into a successful
career?" she exclaimed. "Why didn't I think of applying to you for a
position in the very beginning? It would have saved a world of worry and
disappointment, and a small fortune in postage stamps."

He had time for only a short explanation of the machine before he was
called away, but the book of instructions was clear and concise. She
studied the illustrations and diagrams for awhile with her whole
attention concentrated on them. Accustomed to picking up new crochet
stitches and following intricate patterns from printed directions, it
was an easy matter for her to master the intricacies of the new machine.
Several times she stopped Jack in passing to ask him a question about
some movement or adjustment, but in the main she experimented until she
could answer her own questions.

In a little while she could shift the ribbon or flip a sheet of paper in
and out with the ease of an expert. Then she began studying the
keyboard, to learn the position of the letters, and after that it was
only a question of practice to gain speed. Fingers that had learned
nimbleness and accuracy of touch in other fields, did not lag long here.
Hour after hour she sat at the machine, practising finger exercises as
patiently as if the keys were the ivories of a grand piano.

The next letter which she sent to Phil, some days later, was such a
contrast to the musical medley that it did not seem possible that they
had been written by the same person.

"LONE-ROCK, ARIZONA, April 2d.

"MR. PHILIP TREMONT,
"Necaxa,