"As we have always lived, s'pose."
"And that has been poorly, mother."
"Yes."
"Don't you want me to go away, mother?"
"It makes no difference, s'pose," answered the mother. "I've put up with it this long, s'pose I can put up with it the rest of my days."
"Mother," said Star, whose love for her mother was of the undemonstrative kind, the kind born of instinct, and is taken for granted among the very poor; "mother, I am going to the East End tomorrow to look for a job as a domestic in a rich man's home."
"Yes," replied the mother.
"A woman came to me today and told me to go to a certain house, in the East End, where I could get work at six dollars a week, and board thrown in."
"Yes, Star," returned the mother, now showing a little more interest in the conversation than she had shown in any thing before—unless it was, perhaps, her drunken husband.
"Mother?"