stool. She did not look like the girl he had expected to see. To be sure
her hair was red, but it was not of the red that outcropped from Max's big
head; it was of a dark, rich color, and it had caught the light from the
lamp with such a shine as there is in new red gold. When he entered, she
was again footing columns. She was slender, and her hand, where it
supported her forehead was white. Again Bannon stood motionless, slowly
shaking his head. Then he came forward. She heard his step and looked up,
as if to answer a question, letting her eyes rest on his face. He
hesitated, and she quietly asked:--

"What is it, please?"

"Miss Vogel?"

"Yes."

"I'm Mr. Bannon. There wasn't any need of your working tonight. I'm just
keeping the men on so we can get in this cribbing. When did you come?"

"My brother telephoned to me. I wanted to look things over before starting
in tomorrow."

"How do you find it?"

She hesitated, glancing over the jumble of papers on the desk.

"It hasn't been kept up very well," she presently said. "But it won't be
hard, I think, to straighten it out."

Bannon leaned on the rail and glanced at the paper on which she had been