“Miss Ryan,” he inquired, “what do you do?”
In his wide experience of other people’s troubles, he had learned the terrible and pitiful importance of jobs, or the lack of them.
“Well, doctor,” she replied, “I play the piano in the music department of the Novelty Bazaar.”
“In the basement,” said Dr. Joe. “That’s not much of a job.”
He was acquainted with the Novelty Bazaar and its system of ventilation.
“Oh, it might be worse,” she returned cheerfully.
“Not very much,” said Dr. Joe.
Again he was silent, thinking of Miss Ryan at work in the basement of the Novelty Bazaar.
“I’m going to get you another job,” he announced abruptly.
“I wish you’d get yourself another housekeeper!” she cried, with a vehemence that startled him. “I never saw—anything so—awful. It’s a sh-shame!”