CHAPTER VII
I
“N o, Jimmy, you’d better not come back to-night.”
“You can’t do those jobbing proofs by yourself, Miss Carr.”
“Can’t I?” Valerie smiled up into the face of the boy who hovered over her. She knew he was longing to be asked to come back and do his part with the men. “All right. Then I will be glad to have you to-night. I’ll be here at seven. You try to get a run round in the fresh air before you come in.”
“Yes, Miss Carr.” He went out whistling merrily.
Valerie looked at her watch. It was half-past five. Miss Hands came out of the composing-room.
“Now, Miss Hands,” said Valerie, “I insist that you don’t come back to-night. You can to-morrow if it looks as if we won’t get through. I shall be sorry I took that job, you know, if anybody gets sick on it.”
Miss Hands’ thin face was lit with a sacrificial smile.
“It isn’t tiring working for you, Miss Carr,” she said. Valerie felt a sudden gulp in her throat. The faithfulness of these people sometimes made her want to throw bricks at them. But she shot a quick look at the woman who had been so easily overwhelmed by a little ordinary kindness.
“Miss Hands, it means a lot to me to hear you say that. But it’s part of my job not to overwork you. Now you rest to-night.”
Ryder and Johnson came out of the composing-room
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