The morning stream of pedestrians interested her, though she never got a long look at it, so rapid was the entrance of customers. When trade slackened and Mr. Goldstein had gone to his watch-mending, she opened her book. She was entirely innocent of any intention to steal his time, and he was for a while ignorant of the theft, since he made the opening of the shop-door which was her signal for laying down her book, his signal for a return. She studied a large and never-to-be-forgotten portion of General History. Her book served a minor purpose; she no longer caught the eyes of passers-by.
Fate was not so partial that she kept Mr. Goldstein forever in ignorance of this offense against all the laws of contract between employer and employee. He found before the end of the week Ellen's book under the counter; he heard with irritation the amused comments of his friends. If he had caught her in the beginning of her duplicity he would merely have admonished her, but he realized that she had got the better of him for almost a week—not an easy matter, he proudly boasted. He dismissed her with eloquence.
"Did you think I couldn't get no other girls that you could try to make such a fool of me, say? Did you think I run a university? The men on the street say to me, 'Say, is it true that you employ a reader to sit in your window all the time and read a book?' They ask me do you read to me while I work and if it is the Scripture. You can go, and there is your pay."
A pale Ellen stared at him.
"I waited on everybody who came in!"
"Did you think waiting on everybody who came in was what I had you for?" inquired Mr. Goldstein with scorn. "I do the waiting."
"What did you engage me for?" she asked, bewildered.
Mr. Goldstein believed that she was as innocent as she seemed.
"Nobody will come in here to see an old man, will they? I engaged you because you had black eyes."