“Sure, they can, and they can type, too, but it takes the two of them to do the same amount of work in a day that Elsie did.”
“They’re pretty good girls then,” I said.
She glowered at me. “Donald, don’t tell me you’re going to start falling for Elsie. My God, but you’re susceptible to women! All a woman has to do is to put her head down on your shoulder and cry, and you start oozing sympathy. I suppose she’s been beefing about what a tough job she has.”
“She hasn’t said anything. I’m the one who did the talking.”
“What did you say?”
“Told her to take it easy up in that new office, and have a rest.”
Bertha made a sound of indignation. It was half sniff and half snort. “Paying a girl,” she said, “to sit around and look at her finger-nails while I’m slaving my fingers to the bone trying to make both ends meet.” The humor of her remark struck her as soon as she made it, and she added, with a half smile, “Well, perhaps not clean to the bone. Donald, what the hell did we come here for?”
“Sit tight,” I said. “We’re getting ready to go into action.”
“What do you want me to do?”
“Wait here.”