"A job?" exclaimed Elaine with interest.
"A job?" echoed Mrs. Marshall, her tone indicating horror. There was a startling vulgarity about the term, she reflected. Young ladies might have employment, though occupation was still better. But to get a job was not to be thought of. She shuddered.
"In my Uncle John's office," Peggy explained. "He's a real estate dealer, you know, and he's especially interested in the new suburb they're opening up, Lakeview, they call it. He thinks there's quite an opening in that work for women, and he painted the prospects in such dazzling colors that I really hated to say no."
"Why did you say it, then?" asked Elaine, her manner proving that the inquiry was by no means perfunctory. Mrs. Marshall uttered an exclamation, apparently indicating that the reason was self-evident.
"O, I wouldn't stop before I finished high school for anything. And Uncle John wants somebody right away. If the chance had come after I had graduated I'd have jumped at it, for I've got to earn some money before I go to college."
Elaine folded her work deliberately and laid it on the table. She set her thimble atop, with particular care that it should be exactly in the centre of the pile. Then she looked hard at Peggy.
"What about me?" Elaine demanded abruptly. "Do you think he'd consider me?"
"Elaine!" gasped Mrs. Marshall. But Peggy, overjoyed that the fish had risen so readily to the bait, failed to notice the horrified protest of the mother's tone.
"Would you really take such a position, Elaine?" she cried. "Why, I should think you'd have the best chance in the world. And Uncle John would be such a splendid person to work for. He's a fine business man, everybody says, but not the petrified sort. He's kind and interested and ready to make allowances--"
"Elaine!" said Mrs. Marshall, breaking in on Peggy's eulogy. This time it was impossible to ignore the tone in which she spoke her daughter's name. It was like the crack of a whip.