Charity looked up, recognized the
girl with difficulty, and after a moment's hesitation called to her:
"What's the matter, you poor child? Come here! What's wrong?"
Kedzie suffered herself to be checked. She dropped on the bench
alongside Charity and wailed:
"I fell into that damn' pool, and I've lost my jah-ob!"
Charity patted the shaken back a moment, and said, "But there are
other jobs, aren't there?"
"I don't know of any."
"Well, I'll find you one, my dear, if you'll only smile. You have
such a pretty smile."
"How do you know?" Kedzie queried, giving her a sample of her best.
Charity laughed. "See! That proves it. You are a darling, and too
pretty to lack for a job. Give me your address, and I'll get you
a better place than you lost. I promise you."
Kedzie ransacked her hand-bag and found a printed card, crumpled
and rouge-stained. She poked it at Charity, who read and commented:
"Miss Anita Adair, eh? Such a pretty name! And the address, my
dear--if you don't mind. I am Mrs. Cheever."
"Oh, are you!" Kedzie exclaimed. "I've heard of you. Pleased to
meet you."
Then Kedzie whimpered, and Charity wrote the address and repeated
her assurances. She also gave Kedzie her own card and asked her to
write to her. That seemed to end the interview, and so Kedzie rose
and said: "Much obliged. I guess I gotta go now. G'-by!"
"Good-by," said Charity. "I'll not forget you."
Kedzie moved on humbly. She looked back.
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