Fanny faced him squarely. "I know that Haynes-Cooper isn't
exactly a philanthropic institution. A salary raise
here usually means a battle. I've only been here three
months."
Fenger seated himself in the chair beside her desk and ran a
cool finger through the sheaf of papers in his hand. "My
dear girl--I beg your pardon. I forgot. My good woman
then--if you like that better--you've transfused red blood
into a dying department. It may suffer a relapse after
Christmas, but I don't think so. That's why you're getting
more money, and not because I happen to be tremendously
interested in you, personally."

Fanny's face flamed scarlet. "I didn't mean that."

"Yes you did. Here are those comparative lists you sent me.
If I didn't know Slosson to be as honest as Old Dog Tray I'd
think he had been selling us to the manufacturers. No
wonder this department hasn't paid. He's been giving 'em
top prices for shoddy. Now what's this new plan of yours?"

In an instant Fanny forgot about Theodore, the new winter
suit and furs, everything but the idea that was clamoring to
be born. She sat at her desk, her fingers folding and
unfolding a bit of paper, her face all light and animation
as she talked.

"My idea is to have a person known as a selector for each
important department. It would mean a boiling down of the
products of every manufacturer we deal with, and skimming