"I'm glad of it. You are a trifle pale; you seem to be a little
languid. . . . When do you take your vacation?"

"You suggested May, I believe," she said wistfully.

The Tracer leaned back in his chair, joining the tips of his fingers
reflectively.

"Miss Southerland," he said, "you have been with us a year. I thought it
might interest you to know that I am exceedingly pleased with you."

She colored charmingly.

"But," he added, "I'm terribly afraid we're going to lose you."

"Why?" she asked, startled.

"However," he continued, ignoring her half-frightened question with a
smile, "I am going to promote you--for faithful and efficient service."

"O-h!"

"With an agreeable increase of salary, and new duties which will take
you into the open air. . . . You ride?"

"I--I used to before----"

"_Ex_actly; before you were obliged to earn your living. Please have
yourself measured for habit and boots this afternoon. I shall arrange