“You don’t mean it, Helen?” cried the Russian girl. “You haven’t got that much money for him?”
“Yes, I have. Will you go around there with me? We’ll get the prescription and have it filled.”
“Wait a bit,” said Sadie. “I want to finish this hat. And lemme tell you—it’s right in style. What do you think?”
“How wonderfully clever you are!” cried the Western girl. “It looks as though it had just come out of a shop.”
“Sure it does. I could work in a hat shop. Only they wouldn’t pay me anything at first, and they wouldn’t let me trim. But I know a girl that ain’t a year older nor me what gets sixteen dollars a week trimming in a millinery store on Grand Street. O’ course, she ain’t the madame; she’s only assistant. But sixteen dollars is a good bunch of money to bring home on a Saturday night—believe me!”
“Is that what you’d like to do—keep a millinery shop?” asked Helen.
“Wouldn’t I—just?” gasped Sadie. “Why, Helen—I dream about it nights!”
Helen became suddenly interested. “Would a little shop pay, Sadie? Could you earn your living in a little shop of your own—say, right around here somewhere?”
“Huh! I’ve had me eye on a place for months. But it ain’t no use. You got to put up for the rent, and the wholesalers ain’t goin’ to let a girl like me have stock on credit. And there’s the fixtures—Aw, well, what’s the use? It’s only a dream.”
Helen was determined it should not remain “only a dream.” But she said nothing further.