"I think I'm going to leave my place," was her first remark to-day,
as they turned to walk westward. She spoke in a dogged way with
which Julian was familiar enough, holding her eyes down, and, as she
walked, swinging her arms impatiently.
"I hope not," said her cousin, looking at her anxiously. "What has
happened?"
"Oh, I don't know; it's always the same; people treat you as if you
was so much dirt. I haven't been accustomed to it, and I don't see
why I should begin now. I can soon enough get a new shop."
"Has Mrs. Ogle been unkind to you?"
"Oh, I don't know, and I don't much care. You're expected to slave
just the same, day after day, whether you're feeling well or not."
This indirect and querulous mode of making known her grievances was
characteristic of the girl. Julian bore with it very patiently.
"Haven't you been feeling well?" he asked, with the same kindness.
"Well, no, I haven't. My head fairly splits now, and this sun isn't
likely to make it any better."
"Let us cross to the shady side."
"'Twon't make any difference; I can't run to get out of the way of
horses."
Julian was silent for a little.
"Why didn't you write to me in the week?" she asked presently.
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