engine that would bore a Bauer to death.

Fanny stood looking at him thoughtfully. She knew all about
him. Theodore's talk of the past week had accomplished
that. Fanny knew that here was a man who did one thing
better than any one else in the world. She thrilled to that
thought. She adored the quality in people that caused them
to excel. Schabelitz had got hold of a jack-in-the-box, and
each time the absurd head popped out, with its grin and its
squawk, he laughed like a boy. Fanny, standing behind the
wrapping counter, and leaning on it with her elbows the
better to see this great man, smiled too, as her flexible
spirit and her mobile mind caught his mood. She did not
know she was smiling. Neither did she know why she suddenly
frowned in the intensity of her concentration, reached up
for one of the pencils on the desk next the wrapping
counter, and bent over the topmost sheet of yellow wrapping
paper that lay spread out before her. Her tongue-tip curled
excitedly at one corner of her mouth. Her head was cocked
to one side.

She was rapidly sketching a crude and startling likeness of
Levine Schabelitz as he stood there with the ridiculous toy
in his hand. It was a trick she often amused herself with
at school. She had drawn her school-teacher one day as she
had looked when gazing up into the eyes of the visiting
superintendent, who was a married man. Quite innocently and
unconsciously she had caught the adoring look in the eyes of
Miss McCook, the teacher, and that lady, happening upon the
sketch later, had dealt with Fanny in a manner seemingly