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Just inside his office a girl was sitting on a straight chair, her
hat a trifle crooked, and her eyes red from crying. He paused in
amazement.
"Why, Miss Klein!" he said. "What's the matter?"
She was rather a pretty girl, even now. She stood up at his voice
and made an effort to straighten her hat.
"Haven't you heard?" she asked.
"I haven't heard anything that ought to make Miss Anna Klein weep
of a nice, frosty morning in October. Unless - " he sobered, for
her grief was evident. "Tell me about it."
"Father has given up his job."
"No!"!
"I'm telling you, Mr. Spencer. He won't help to make those shells.
He's been acting queer for three or four days and this morning he
told your father."
Graham whistled.
"As if it made any difference," she went on irritably. "Some one
else will get his job. That's all. What does he care about the
Germans? He left them and came to America as soon as he could walk."
Graham sat down.
"Now let's get this," he said.


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