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"Yes," said the man, pa.s.sing his hand across his brow a little wearily.
He looked tired, and overworked, and Patty felt sorry for him.
But he whirled round in his office chair and asked her quite civilly what she wanted.
"You advertised for embroiderers," began Patty, feeling rather small and worthless, "so I came----"
"Yes, yes," said the man, as she paused. "Can you embroider? We use only the best. Have you samples of your work?"
"I have," said Patty, beginning to untie her box.
But her fingers trembled, and she couldn't unknot the cord.
The man took it from her, not rudely, but as if every moment were precious. Deftly he opened the parcel, and gave a quick glance at Patty's exquisite needlework on the doilies and centrepieces she had brought.
"Do it yourself?" he asked, already closing the box again.
"Yes, of course," said Patty, indignant at the implication.
"No offence; that's all right. Your work goes. Report at Department B.
Good-day."
He handed her the box, whirled round to his desk, and was immediately at his work again.
Patty realised she was dismissed, and, taking her box, she started for the stairs.
She pa.s.sed the red-headed boy again, and feeling almost as if she were meeting an old friend in a strange land, she said: "Where is Department B?"
"Caught on, didjer?" he grinned. "Good fer youse! B, first floor,--that way."
He pointed a grimy finger in the direction she should take, and went on, whistling. Down the three flights of stairs went Patty, and thanks to the clarity of the red-headed one's direction, she soon found Department B.
This was in charge of a sharp-faced woman, rather past middle age.
"Sent by Mr. Myers?" she inquired, looking at Patty coldly.
"I was sent by the man in Department G," returned Patty. "He said my work would do, and that I was to report to you."
"All right; how much do you want?" said the woman.
"How much do you pay?" returned Patty.
"Don't be impertinent, miss! I mean how much work do you want?"
"Oh," said Patty, who was quite innocent of any intent to offend. "Why, I want enough to last a week."
"Well, that depends on how fast you work," said the woman, speaking with some asperity. "Come now, do you want a dozen, or two dozen, or what?"
Patty was strongly tempted to say: "What, thank you!" but she refrained, knowing it was no occasion for foolery.
"I don't know till I see them," she replied. "Are they elaborate pieces?"
"Here they are," said the woman, taking some pieces of work from a box.
Her tone seemed to imply that she was conferring an enormous favour on Patty by showing them.
They were rather large centrepieces, all of the same pattern, which was stamped, but not embroidered.
"There's a lot of work on those," remarked Patty.
"Oh, you _are_ green!" said the woman. She jerked out another similar centrepiece, on which a small section, perhaps one-eighth of the whole, was worked in silks.
"This is what you're to do," she explained, in a tired, cross voice. "You work this corner, and that's all."
"Who works the rest?" asked Patty, amazed at this plan.
"Why, the buyer. We sell these to the shops; they sell them to people who use this finished corner as a guide to do the rest of the piece. Can't you understand?"
"Yes, I can, now that you explain it," returned Patty. "Then if I take a dozen, I'm to work just that little corner on each one; is that it?"
"That's it," said the woman, wearily, as if she were making the explanation for the thousandth time,--as she probably was.
"You can take this as a guide for yourself," she went on, a little more kindly, "and here's the silks. Did you say a dozen?"
"Wait a minute," said Patty; "how much do you pay?"
"Five dollars."
"Apiece, I suppose. Yes, I'll take a dozen." The woman gave a hard little laugh.
"Five dollars apiece!" she said. "Not much! We pay five dollars a dozen."
"A dozen? Five dollars for all that work! Why, each of those corners is as much work as a whole doily."
"Yes, just about; do you work fast?"
"Yes; pretty fast."
Patty was doing some mental calculation. Three dozen of those pieces meant an interminable lot of work. But it also meant fifteen dollars, and Patty's spirit was now fully roused.
"I'll take three dozen," she said, decidedly; "and I'll bring them back, finished, a week from to-day."
"My, you must be a swift worker," said the woman, in a disinterested voice.
She was already sorting out silks, as with a practised hand, and making all into a parcel.
Patty was about to offer her a visiting card, as she a.s.sumed she must give her address, when the woman said:
"Eighteen dollars, please."
"What?" said Patty. "What for?"