“You’re a great comfort, Nan,” said Patty. “You always do just the right thing. But you needn’t think you can divert my mind to the extent of making me give up this plan of mine. For I won’t do that.”
“I know you won’t. But next time do try something easier.”
“I shall. I’ve already made up my mind what it’s to be; and truly, it’s dead easy.”
“I thought your red-headed friend cured you of using slang,” said Nan, smiling.
“I thought so, too,” said Patty, with an air of innocent surprise. “Isn’t it queer how one can be mistaken?”
True to her determination, Patty started out again the following morning to get an “occupation,” as they all termed it.
Again Miller was amazed at the address given him, but he said nothing, and proceeded to drive Patty to it.
It was even less attractive than the former shop, being nothing more or less than an establishment where “white work” was given out.
“How many?” asked the woman in charge, and, profiting by past experience, Patty said:
“One dozen.”