tough an' full o' work, an'--an', Miss, I has to sell maself tonight
'cause--'cause--"

Uncle Noah paused uncertainly, seeking a fit expression of his dilemma,
and the girl, readily intuitive, glanced swiftly about to assure
herself that the waiting-room was free from unsympathetic
eavesdroppers. Then, strangely drawn by this quaint old vender of
humanity, and warmly eager to put him more at his ease, she impulsively
pushed a rocking-chair toward the old stove in the center and motioned
him to be seated. But Uncle Noah had been reared in the Fairfax
family, and a Fairfax never sat when a lady was still upon her feet.
With a courtly gesture the old man bowed her to the chair she had drawn
for him. A quick gleam of approval flashed in the gray eyes and with a
deepening flush of puzzled interest, the girl instantly seated herself,
unfastening the silver fox at her throat as she felt the warmth of the
old country stove.

"Please, I would _so_ much rather you, too, would sit down," she said
impulsively, and as Uncle Noah drew forward another of the rickety old
rocking-chairs with which the Cotesville waiting-room was dotted, she
bent toward him--a light in the wonderful gray eyes that won Uncle
Noah's heart.

"Tell me," she said kindly: "Tell me just why you want to sell
yourself."

No, she had not laughed at him. Uncle Noah glowed to the tips of his
fingers at the ready sympathy of her tone. He beamed mildly at her
over his spectacles, turning the old fur cap round and round in his
hands as he sought to voice the words that struggled to his lips. "Ol'