Ellen spent a dreary Sunday within doors and from time to time shed tears. She had not minded rain in the country, but this day was intolerable. All the afternoon Mrs. Lebber and Mrs. Sassaman sat at the parlor windows looking out into the dingy street and alternating sigh with sigh. She went with them to evening service in a little church, where the singing was wretched and the sermon grim. The scanty and spiritless congregation dispersed silently and she bit her lips to keep from crying.
The following morning she started out once more to find a position. In the sordid district behind the Capitol she saw, next to a Jewish synagogue with strange lettering above its door, a laundry whose sign announced "Girl Wanted," and there applied. The second of her assets, physical strength, was to serve her now. In a few minutes she found herself engaged and being instructed in the art of running wet towels through a hot mangle. She put into her work a fierce, triumphant repudiation of Mr. Goldstein.
Steam laundries are run like jewelry stores for the benefit of their owners, and steady work is required. At the end of the second day Ellen, aching from head to foot, walked home in a cold wind. The third evening she cried with pain, but she went back, believing that if she failed now she would fail altogether.
Mrs. Sassaman wept over her, brought her hot herb tea, and finally in an excess of emotion told what was on her mind.
"That one toward Lancaster, he has been here."
Ellen was puzzled.
"You knew there was a man there, Ellen." Mrs. Sassaman blushed as she tried to explain the extent of her suitor's devotion. "I used to know him, he is a lame man, but kind. He will have me, it seems."
"You mean a lover?" said Ellen.
"Something like that."