She colored, and forced a laugh, and answered with some smartness: "Which soul do you mean? I've got two—one on each foot."
He took no notice of the jest, but went on:
"And how about the souls of these girls? What will become of them?"
"I ain't hurting their souls," she said. "I don't force 'em to stay with me; they come of their own accord, and they can go when they please. I don't keep 'em. If any of my girls can better themselves anywhere else, I don't stand in their way."
The air of virtuous assurance with which she spoke would have given the impression that she was pursuing, under difficult circumstances, some praiseworthy branch of industry at which her girls were apprentices.
Just at this moment, I turned, and saw Maggie standing behind me. She was not with the other girls, but standing a little back, toward the bar. Instantly I crossed over, and, raising my veil, said, "Maggie, poor child! come back to your mother."
Her face changed in a moment; she looked pale, as if she were going to faint, and said only, "Oh! Mrs. Henderson, you here?"
"Yes, I came to look for you, Maggie. Come right away with us," I said. "O Maggie! come," and I burst into tears.
She seemed dreadfully agitated, but said:
"Oh, I can't; it's too late!"