For half an hour the usually inaccessible president of the bottle factory
and the scrub woman from Calvary Alley held mysterious conclave; then the
door opened again, and Mrs. Smelts melted into the outer passage as
silently as she had come.

Nance, while frankly curious, had little time to indulge in idle
surmise. All her faculties were bent on mastering the big modern
type-writer that presented such different problems from the ancient
machine on which she had pounded out her lessons. She didn't like this
sensitive, temperamental affair that went off half-cocked at her
slightest touch, and did things on its own account that she was in the
habit of doing herself.

Her first dictation left her numb with terror. She heard Mr. Clarke
repeating with lightning rapidity phrases which she scarcely
comprehended: "Enclose check for amount agreed upon." "Matter settled
once and for all." "Any further annoyance to be punished to full extent
of the law."

"Shall I address an envelope?" she asked, glancing at the "Dear Madam" at
the top of the page.

"No," said Mr. Clarke, sharply, "I'll attend to that."

Other letters followed, and she was soon taking them with considerable
speed. When mistakes occurred they could usually be attributed to the
graded school which, during its brief chance at Nance, had been more
concerned in teaching her the names and the lengths of the rivers of
South America than in teaching her spelling.