Without inviting Nance to remove her hat and
jacket, she ordered her to lift the shade, sit down, and deal the cards.
They were still playing when the squinting person hobbled in with a
luncheon tray, and Miss Bobinet promptly transferred her attention from
royal marriages to oyster stew.
"Have her come back at three," she directed Susan; then seeing Nance's
eyes rest on the well filled tray, she added impatiently, "Didn't I tell
you to stop staring? Any one would think you were watching the animals
feed in the zoo."
Nance fled abashed. The sight of the steaming soup, the tempting bird,
and dainty salad had made her forget her manners.
"I reckon I'm engaged," she said to Mrs. Snawdor, when she reached
home and had cut herself a slice of dry bread to eat with the
warmed-over coffee. "She never said what the pay was to be, but she
said to come back."
"What does she look like?" asked Mrs. Snawdor, curiously.
"A horse," said Nance. "And she's deaf as anything. If I stay with her,
she'll have to get her an ear-trumpet or a new wig before the month's
out. I swallow a curl every time I speak to her."
"Well," said Mrs. Snawdor, "companions ain't in my line, but I got sense
enough to know that when a woman's so mean she's got to pay somebody to
keep her company, the job ain't no cinch."
CHAPTER XVI
MISS BOBINET'S
Nance's new duties, compared with those at the bottle factory, and the
sweat-shop seemed, at first, mere child's play.
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