"
"Doesn't the Service allow him a clerk?"
"Not yet; but it will in time."
"What is Mr. Thorne's salary?"
"Well, really----"
"Oh, I beg pardon," cried Bob flushing; "I just meant supervisors'
salaries, of course. I wasn't prying, really. It's all a matter of
public record, isn't it?"
"Of course." The girl checked herself. "Well, it's eighteen hundred--and
something for expenses."
"Eighteen hundred!" cried Bob. "Do you mean to say that the _two_ of you
give all your time for that! Why, we pay a good woods foreman pretty
near that!"
"And that's all you do pay him," said the girl quietly. "Money wage
isn't the whole pay for any job that is worth doing."
"Don't understand," said Bob briefly.
"We belong to the Service," she stated with a little movement of pride.
"Those tasks in life which give a high moneyed wage, generally give only
that. Part of our compensation is that we belong to the Service; we are
doing something for the whole people, not just for ourselves." She
caught Bob's half-smile, more at her earnestness than at her sentiment,
and took fire. "You needn't laugh!" she cried.
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