Florence shook her head, with a smile.
“No, Mrs. O’Keefe,” she said. “I am afraid I haven’t a business turn, and I should hardly like so public an employment.”
“Lor’, miss, it’s nothin’ if you get used to it. There’s nothin’ dull about my business, unless it rains, and you get used to havin’ people look at you.”
“It isn’t all that are worth looking at like you, Mrs. O’Keefe,” said Dodger, slyly.
“Oh, go away wid your fun, Dodger,” said the apple-woman, good-naturedly. “I ain’t much to look at, I know.”
“I think there’s a good deal of you to look at, Mrs. O’Keefe. You must weigh near three hundred.”
“I’ve a good mind to box your ears, Dodger. I only weigh a hundred and ninety-five. But I can’t be bothered wid your jokes. Can you sew, Miss Florence?”
“Yes; but I would rather earn my living some other way, if possible.”
“Small blame to you for that. I had a girl in Dodger’s room last year who used to sew for a livin’. Early and late she worked, poor thing, and she couldn’t make but two dollars a week.”
“How could she live?” asked Florence, startled, for she knew very little of the starvation wages paid to toiling women.