"Or sell stockings?" suggested Elizabeth.

It was at this moment that Mr. Compton was called to the telephone in an
adjoining room, and when he had gone the girl turned suddenly upon Jimmy
Torrance. There was no cordiality nor friendship in her expression; a
sneer upcurved her short upper lip.

"I do not wish to humiliate you unnecessarily in the presence of my
father," she said. "You have managed to deceive him into believing that
you are what you claim to be. Mr. Bince has known from the start that
you are incompetent and incapable of accomplishing the results father
thinks you are accomplishing. Now that you know that I know you to be an
impostor, what do you intend to do?"

"I intend to keep right on with my work in the plant, Miss Compton,"
replied Jimmy.

"How long do you suppose father would keep you after I told him what I
know of you? Do you think that he would for a moment place the future of
his business in the hands of an ex-waiter from Feinheimer's---that he
would let a milk-wagon driver tell him how to run his business?"

"It probably might make a difference," said Jimmy, "if he knew, but he
will not know--listen, Miss Compton, I have discovered some things
there that I have not even dared as yet to tell your father. The whole
future of the business may depend upon my being there during the next
few weeks. If I wasn't sure of what I am saying I might consider
acceding to your demands rather than to embarrass you with certain
knowledge which I have."