Mrs. Kenyon's bright eyes scanned Betty from head to foot.
"It's not everyone that I could accept help from, but I'll be glad of it from you."
So the two worked side by side with a will and with scarcely a word exchanged between them. They shifted boxes, placed furniture in temporary safety against the walls, but to Betty fell the lion's share of the lifting.
"I don't know how you do it; you're as strong as a man," said Mrs. Kenyon, subsiding into a chair for a moment's rest.
"We're made so out here; for one thing we are accustomed to use our muscles from the moment we can walk. We don't—have our shoes buttoned up for us," with a sly glance at her companion.
Mrs. Kenyon gave a short laugh. "Nor have I since I came out here. Since I married I learned the way to clean them. That's six years ago, and for three years I've made the child's living and my own. It has not been a bed of roses. I tried various methods, was lady-help and so on; but now I'm a dressmaker, and that not only pays better, but leaves me free to keep a little home of my own. I hope the people in the township need a dressmaker."
"Indeed they do if you are willing to work in the house. The only woman we can get is engaged weeks beforehand, and then as often as not fails one at the last minute. If you are good I believe you will hardly have a day free."
"That's good hearing, but they must accept Eva with me. I can't leave her, you see. Turn her into the garden and she is as independent as a puppy. I think I am good at sewing! As a girl at home I made most of my own gowns and was often asked the name of my dressmaker. I decided to come here as someone I met told me there was a good opening."
Betty's eyes rested thoughtfully on the speaker The dusk gave her courage to express her thought.
"I almost wonder you did not go home. You're not really fitted for a fight with life."