"It's another one," groaned Janice, her heart sinking. "I know
she must be from the intelligence office, because--well--she
looks so unintelligent, I
guess!"

Janice opened the gate and approached the ungainly woman
doubtfully. Surely daddy could not have seen her before hiring
this very peculiar-looking person. He must have accepted her
services over the telephone, and "sight, unseen."

The newly hired girl wreathed her flabby face in a vacuous smile.
She bobbed up from her seat, bringing the oilcloth bag with her,
and towering over Janice Day in a most startling manner.

"How-de-do! I guess you are after bein' Mr. Day's little girl,
heh?"

The voice from the giantess made Janice jump. It was high and
squealing, like a bat's voice; and some people's ears are not
attuned to the bat's cry and cannot hear it at all.

"Ye-es. I am Janice Day," admitted the girl.

"Well," squealed the newcomer, "I'm the lady your paw sent up to
do the work. You're a right pretty little girl, ain't you?"

Janice ignored this bit of flattery as she mounted the steps and
drew forth the door key.