"
"Shall I talk, or shall I keep quiet? I'm not a servant here, you
know," she added, with an amusing desire to make her position clear.
"Ida and me's friends, and she'd do just as much for I."
"Talk by all means," said Waymark, smiling, as he lit his cigar. The
result was that, in a quarter of an hour Sally had related her whole
history. As Ida had said, she came from Weymouth, where her father
was a fisherman, and owner of bum-boats. Her mother kept a laundry,
and the family had all lived together in easy circumstances. She
herself had come to London--well, just for a change. And what was
she doing? Oh, getting her living as best she could. In the day-time
she worked in a city workroom.
"And how much do you think I earn a week?" she asked.
"Fifteen shillings or so, I suppose?"
"Ah, that's all you know about it! Now, last week was the best I've
had yet, and I made seven shillings."
"What do you do?"
"Machine work; makin' ulsters. How much do you think we get, now,
for makin' a ulster--one like this?" pointing to one which hung
behind the door.
"Have no idea."
"Well,--_fourpence_: there now!"
"And how many can you make in a day?"
"I can't make no more than two.
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