"Thirty-five!" repeated Miss Wilmot, indignantly. "Who pays you such a wretched price?"
"Walton & Co."
"No wonder they prosper, if they pay so little for having their work done. How many vests can you make in a week?"
"One vest a day is about as much as I can make, but I have made seven in a week."
"And you consider that a good week's work?" asked Miss Wilmot.
"Yes, but I cannot average that."
"That makes—let me see—two dollars and forty-five cents. You don't mean to say, child, that your united incomes amount to only four dollars and forty-five cents?"
"It generally amounts to less, for I cannot average seven vests a week."
"Well, well, what are we coming to?" ejaculated Miss Wilmot, pityingly. "You don't look, child, as if you had always been so miserably poor."
"I have not. My grandfather was rich, but he took offense at mother's marriage to father and he left all his property to my cousin."