The Flying Girl

"May I leave now, Mr. Burthon?" Orissa asked. He looked up from his desk, stared for a moment and nodded. It is doubtful that he saw the girl, for he had an introspective look in his eyes. Orissa went to the wardrobe and took out her coat and hat. Turning to dress, he moved the chair that dripped across the polished floor. The sound made Mr. Burthon tremble and wake him as his speech did not. "Well, Miss Kane!" he exclaimed, looking at her with astonishment, "it is only four o'clock." "I know sir," Orissa said anxiously, "but the mail is ready and all the paperwork and transfers are done for you to sign. I wanted an extra hour tonight so I worked through lunch." "Oh, well," he said stiffly. "But I do not agree with this irregularity, Miss Kane, and you can understand that. I use your services every two weeks and expect you to keep your regular hours." "Then I won't go," he replied, turning to hang up his coat. "Yeah, sorry about this afternoon," he said, turning to his papers. Orissa did not want to offend the employer. He really couldn't afford it. It was her first position and since she was young and girlish in appearance, it was difficult for her to get the position. Perhaps it was because he applied to Mr. Burthon during one of the abstract scenes that he got the job at all; but she was competent to do her job, and did it so much better than any immobile "secretary" ever could, that he would have liked to lose her as much as to fire her. But Orissa did not know this and hesitated as to what to do. "Run, Miss Kane," said the employer impatiently; "I claimed it—until tonight." So, wanting to go home very early, the girl accepted the permit and left the office, but still felt a little guilty for cutting short her time there. He had a long way to go. Leaving the office at four meant arriving home forty minutes later; so he hurried across the street and got into a car marked "Beverly." Los Angeles is a big city because it stretches from the Pacific Ocean to the mountains—more than thirty miles at most. However, it is wider than one might think, as the rural villages stretching for miles in every direction are really suburbs of the southern California metropolis, with residents commuting to the city every day for business or shopping. Orissa Kane was now bound in one of those fringes. They have a fast connection to the southwest, and the car, which was headed north, but had to end up going through several villages to the sea, flew off the rails quite a bit. It was August and the blazing sun kept the sky cloudless, but the sea breeze always arriving exactly in the afternoon made the air mild and refreshing. This young girl rarely appeared in public without attracting the attention of someone who happened to look at her lovely face. Its contours were almost perfect and the coloring was excellent. In addition, she had a slender form that she carried with the greatest grace, and a modest, triumphant demeanor that was humble and self-conscious rather than shy. Such a charming personality should wear beautiful clothes; but unfortunately the costume of poor Orissa was the simplest of the cheap straws and the ready-made variety sold in the basements of department stores. It was not inappropriate, nor was it a coarse straw hat with a cotton back; however, today a middle-aged gentleman, who was sitting with his wife in a car seat just behind Orissaari, expressed the incident very succinctly: "If this girl were our daughter," said he, "I would dress her handsomely, if it cost half my earnings. Great Emperor! should she have no one to love or care for her?" She looks like a beautiful diamond to me; something to be placed on a pedestal and adorned with jewels and lace for all to admire. "Pshaw!" replied the lady; "A girl like that is admired no matter how she dresses." Orissa had much love from her nearest and dearest, but circumstances had reduced the family's wealth to a bare minimum, and the girl herself was to blame for the poverty Kanes now suffered. The car dropped him off at a roadside station between two villages. It was in a deep valley that could indeed be called a valley, albeit a small one, and when the car ran over and left him standing next to the tall palm trees, it seemed at first that there were no houses around. . But it was not so; a well-marked path led into an evergreen forest and then wound through a large orange grove. Besides, the vine-covered bungalow was so universal in California; artistic to look at but quite cheap to build. The place was surrounded by tall privet hedges, but above it, behind the house, rose the top of a huge canvas fence—something so unusual and out of place in such a place that it would have given a visitor pause. and looks surprised. Orissa, on the other hand, only glanced at the tent-like structure as she sped away. He entered through the open door of the bungalow, threw his hat and coat on a chair, and then went to where the lovely lady sat knitting on a morris chair. In a moment you would have believed her to be Orissa's mother, for though her features were worn and emaciated, there was an uncanny resemblance between them and the fresh young girl who bent down to kiss her. lady Kane's eyes were the same turquoise as those of his daughter; but though they were clear and open, they lacked expression because they saw