Dorinda's heart trembled and sank. "I thought there was always plenty to do in the city."
"You did? Well, whoever told you that never tried it, I guess."
"There are so many stores. I hoped I could find something to do in one of them."
"Have you ever worked in a store?"
"Yes, at home. It was a country store where they kept everything."
"I know that kind. My father used to keep one up the state."
As she bent over the cat, Dorinda asked in a voice that she tried to keep steady. "You don't need any help, do you?"
The other shook her head sorrowfully. "I wish we did; but times are so hard that we've had to give up the assistant we had. I'm just out of the hospital, too, and that took up most of our savings for the last year." Her large, kind face showed genuine sympathy. "I'd help you if I could," she continued, "because you've got a look that reminds me of my sister who went into a convent. She's dead now, but she had those straight black eyebrows, jutting out just like yours over bright blue eyes. That sort of colouring ain't so common as it used to be. Anyhow, it made me think of her as soon as I looked at you. It gave me a start at first. That's because I'm still weak after the operation, I guess."
"Was it a bad operation?"
"Gall stones. One of the worst, they say, when it has gone on as long as my trouble. Have you ever been in a hospital?"