CHAPTER II.

A WORD OF WARNING.

Augustus Atherton, attorney-at-law, was seated in his office looking over some papers.

Suddenly he tapped a bell upon his desk and his office-boy entered.

“Tell Sands to bring me a copy of Halstead’s testimony, Bob,” he said, shortly, “and tell him to hurry; I want it this minute!”

“Mr. Sands is out to lunch, sir, won’t be back for half an hour,” said the boy, respectfully, “but Miss Marlowe has the copy; shall I tell her to bring it?”

“Yes, at once,” said the lawyer, wheeling around in his chair.

In less than a minute his “typewriter girl” entered the office.

“Here is the paper, sir,” said a sweet, low voice.

Mr. Atherton looked up and then stared a little. It was the first time he had really taken a good look at the new copyist.

The young girl who stood before him was very beautiful. She had a sweet, oval face, lighted by violet eyes, and her rippling golden hair shone like threads of sunshine.

Her figure was plump, but exceedingly graceful, and every curve was enhanced by the charming simplicity of her garments.

“Oh, thank you!” he said politely, as she laid the papers upon the desk, and at the same time he looked admiringly at her small white hand and taper fingers.

“You copy very neatly and accurately, Miss Marlowe,” he said quickly, as she was about to turn respectfully and leave him.

“Thank you, sir,” said the beautiful girl, blushing. “I am very glad, indeed, that I please you. It is my first position and I am naturally a little nervous.”

“You have never worked in an office before, then,” said the old lawyer, glancing her over critically. “Well, you are doing nicely, and Sands tells me you are very rapid.”

“I do manage the typewriter very easily, sir,” said the young girl, smiling, “and I am studying very hard. I shall soon be a stenographer.”

“Then I’ll have you in here where I can dictate to you,” said the lawyer, quickly.

“By Jove! What a treat that will be after two years of Miss Dixon!”

His extraordinary manner astonished the girl a little, but after a moment of embarrassment she managed to stammer:

“Oh, but I may never be as proficient as Miss Dixon; she takes notes like lightning, while I can only write fifty words a minute.”

“Well, I could talk slower,” said the lawyer, slyly, giving her another sharp look over his glasses.

Dollie Marlowe smiled, but she was considerably puzzled. It was the longest conversation that she had had with her employer.

For she had only been working two weeks, and it was the first position of any kind that she had ever occupied.

She was only seventeen, but quite large for her age, and up to a few months before had always lived in the country.

As she bowed politely to the lawyer and hurried away from his desk, she could not help wondering if he had guessed just how green and simple she was, and whether his words were intended for anything more than kindly encouragement.

When she reached the little office where her typewriter stood, Dollie went on with her work as steadily as ever, but more than once she caught herself thinking of her employer’s words and wondering if he really did want her to sit in his office.

Dollie Marlowe’s life in the city had not been without its experiences, and at times there was a cloud on the fair girl’s brow as though some of those experiences had been woefully bitter.

She rarely said anything about her own life, but the name of her twin sister was frequently on her lips, and this sister was now a nurse in Charity Hospital.

“My sister Marion is as beautiful as a saint,” she had told Miss Dixon. “She has magnificent gray eyes and such a queenly air. Oh, I could talk forever and not tell half of Marion’s virtues!”

“If she is prettier than you are she must be beautiful,” Miss Dixon had said, honestly. She was one of the few plain women who could see beauty in others and admit it.

She came into the little office while Dollie was working, only a few minutes after the talk with Mr. Atherton.

“There is a boy out in the hall looking for you, Miss Marlowe,” she said, pleasantly, “and I should judge by his looks that he had some important news. Oh, no, not bad news, I am sure!” she added, as she saw the change in Dollie’s face. “He was grinning and showing every tooth in his head. A mighty nice-looking boy, too; perhaps he is your sweetheart.”

“My sweetheart is not a boy, Miss Dixon,” said Dollie, proudly. “He is twenty years old and is a bookkeeper at a good salary. This must be Bert Jackson, one of my old neighbors in the country.”

She rose from her machine and hurried out into the hall. Sure enough, there stood Bert, very impatient, but still grinning.

“I just dropped in to tell you the good news,” said Bert, as quick as he saw her. “I’ve been adopted by a rich man, and I’m to have my choice of a future profession.”

“Oh, Bert, how lovely!” cried Dollie, enthusiastically. She could hardly believe that such good fortune had befallen him.

“His name is Captain Hobart, and he’s a millionaire, I am told,” went on Bert. “I used to always wait on him at the store where I worked, and he tells me he took a fancy to me because of my good manners. How Matt Jenkins, the keeper of the Poor Farm, would swear if he could hear that,” he said, roaring. “That’s doing pretty well for an orphan boy to be adopted by a millionaire, isn’t it, Dollie?”

“Oh, it’s just beautiful!” cried Dollie, in genuine delight. “Oh, I just wish all of the boys from the Poor Farm could have such a chance! Marion will be overjoyed to hear of it, Bert. I shall write to her this evening and tell her about it.”

“I’ve done that already,” was Bert’s prompt reply. “You didn’t suppose I’d let her hear it second-hand, did you? And, by the way, Dollie, I’ve got a secret for your ears. It has just come to me lately, and I’m as happy as a lark. I’m going straight ahead to make love to Marion. She’s the dearest girl I know, and I’m going to ask her to marry me.”

“Oh, Bert!”

This was all that Dollie could say. She was quite overcome with astonishment at this matter-of-fact announcement.

“Well, why shouldn’t I,” asked Bert, in an injured tone. “Of course I don’t expect her to marry me now, but as soon as I am educated and have plenty of ‘dough’ I don’t see any reason why she shouldn’t like me.”

Dollie Marlowe burst out laughing, in spite of Bert’s seriousness.

“But don’t you know that Marion has two lovers already?” she asked, gayly. “Why, she’ll have time to marry both of them before you are old enough to ask her.”

“I’m as old as she is, and I’ll take chances on that,” said Bert, coolly; “but I say, Dollie, who the mischief is this bald-headed old duffer?”

“Hush!” whispered the girl in horror, as she saw who was coming. “That is Mr. Atherton, my honorable employer.”

“Honorable fiddlesticks!” said Bert, staring straight at the gentleman. “Look out for him, Dollie; I don’t like his style. He’s too smooth to be real healthy, and you know I must protect you, if you are going to be my sister.”