"
"I'd keep it dark," Nance urged. "I could slip down every night after I
git done my work, an' put in a couple of hours, easy. I'm a awful big
child fer my age--feel my muscle! Go on an' make him take me on, Ikey,
will you?"
And Ikey condescendingly agreed to use his influence.
CHAPTER IX
BUTTONS
The Lavinskis' flat on the second floor had always possessed a mysterious
fascination for Nance. In and out of the other flats she passed at will,
but she had never seen beyond the half-open door of the Lavinskis'. All
day and far into the night, the sewing-machines ran at high pressure, and
Mr. Lavinski shuffled in and out carrying huge piles of pants on his
head. The other tenants stopped on the stairs to exchange civilities or
incivilities with equal warmth; they hung out of windows or dawdled
sociably in doorways. But summer and winter alike the Lavinskis herded
behind closed doors and ran their everlasting sewing-machines.
Mrs. Snawdor gave her ready consent to Nance trying her hand as a "home
finisher."
"We got to git money from somewheres," she said, "an' I always did want
to know how them Polocks live. But don't you let on to your Uncle Jed
what you're doing."
"I ain't goin' to let on to nobody," said Nance, thrilled with the
secrecy of the affair.
The stifling room into which Ikey introduced her that night was supposed
to be the Lavinskis' kitchen, but it was evident that the poor room had
long ago abandoned all notions of domesticity.
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