about two important changes in the house of Snawdor. First, a financial
panic caused by the withdrawal of his insurance money, and, second, a
lightening of Nance's home duties that sent her once more into the world
to seek a living.

By one of those little ironies in which life seems to delight, the only
opportunity that presented itself lay directly in the path of temptation.
A few days after her interview with Monte Pearce, Dan came to her with an
offer to do some office work at the bottle factory. The regular
stenographer was off on a vacation, and a substitute was wanted for the
month of September.

"Why, I thought you'd be keen about it," said Dan, surprised at her
hesitation.

"Oh! I'd like it all right, but--"

"You needn't be afraid to tackle it," Dan urged. "Mr. Clarke's not as
fierce as he looks; he'd let you go a bit slow at first."

"He wouldn't have to! I bet I've got as much speed now as the girl he's
had. It's not the work."

"I know how you feel about the factory," said Dan, "and I wouldn't want
you to go back in the finishing room. The office is different. You take
my word for it; it's as nice a place as you could find."

They were standing on the doorless threshold of Number One, under the
fan-shaped arch through which the light had failed to shine for twenty
years. From the room on the left came the squeak of Mr. Demry's fiddle