ands, regarded Mr. Clodd.

"Don't you hurry yourself," said Mr. Clodd; "but when you really have
finished, tell me what you think of me."

"I beg your pardon," apologised the person at the desk. "I have got into
a habit of staring at people. I know it's rude. I'm trying to break
myself of it."

"Tell me your name," suggested Mr. Clodd, "and I'll forgive you."

"Tommy," was the answer--"I mean Jane."

"Make up your mind," advised Mr. Clodd; "don't let me influence you. I
only want the truth."

"You see," explained the person at the desk, "everybody calls me Tommy,
because that used to be my name. But now it's Jane."

"I see," said Mr. Clodd. "And which am I to call you?"

The person at the desk pondered. "Well, if this scheme you and Mr. Hope
have been talking about really comes to anything, we shall be a good deal
thrown together, you see, and then I expect you'll call me Tommy--most
people do."

"You've heard about the scheme? Mr. Hope has told you?"

"Why, of course," replied Tommy. "I'm Mr. Hope's devil."

For the moment Clodd doubted whether his old friend had not started a
rival establishment to his own.

"I help him in his work," Tommy relieved his mind by explaining. "In
journalistic circles we call it devilling."

"I understand," said Mr. Clodd. "And what do you think, Tommy, of the
scheme? I may as well start calling you Tommy, because, between you and
me, I think the idea will come to something."

Tommy fixed her black eyes upon him. She seemed to be looking him right
through.

"You are staring again, Tommy," Clodd reminded her. "You'll have trouble
breaking yourself of that habit, I can see."

"I was trying to make up my mind about you. Everything depends upon the
business man."

"Glad to hear you say so," replied the self-satisfied Clodd.

"If you are very clever--Do you mind coming nearer to the lamp? I can't
quite see you over there."

Clodd never could understand why he did it--never could understand why,
from first to last, he always did what Tommy wished him to do; his only
consolation being that other folks seemed just as helpless. He rose and,
crossing the long room, stood at attention before the large desk,
nervousness, to which he was somewhat of a stranger, taking possession of
him.

"You don't _look_ very clever."

Clodd experienced another new sensation--that of falling in his own
estimation.

"And yet one can see that you _are_ clever."

The mercur