“You are certainly clever,” said Madame Villard, patronisingly, as she looked at the hats Miss O’Flynn held up for her inspection. “I am glad to offer you a permanent position here. You will have to learn the rudiments of the work, as the most gifted genius should always be familiar with the foundations of his own art. Will you agree to come to me every day?”
Patty hesitated. She hated the thought of coming every day, even if but for a week. And yet, here was the opportunity she was in search of. Trimming hats was easy enough work; probably they wouldn’t make her learn lining and covering at once.
Then the thought occurred to her that it wouldn’t be honest to pretend she was coming regularly, when she meant to do so only for a week.
“Suppose I try it for a week,” she suggested. “Then if either of us wishes to do so, we can terminate the contract.”
“Very well,” said Madame, who thought to herself she could make this young genius trim a great many hats in a week. “Do you agree to that?”
“At what salary?” asked Patty, faintly, for she felt as if she were condemning herself to a week of torture.
“Well,” said Madame Villard, “as you are so ignorant of the work, I ought not to give you any recompense at all; but as you evince such an aptitude for trimming I am willing to say, five dollars a week.”
“Five dollars a week,” repeated Patty, slowly. “You ought to be ashamed of yourself!”
Patty did not mean to be rude or impertinent. Indeed, for the moment she was not even thinking of herself. She was thinking how a poor girl, who had her living to earn, would feel at an offer of five dollars for six long days of work in that dreadful atmosphere.
“I beg your pardon,” she said, mechanically, and she said it more because of Madame Villard’s look of amazement, than because of any regret at her own blunt speech. “I shouldn’t have spoken so frankly. But the compensation you offer is utterly inadequate.”