Faith felt so sorry for the girl that she did not know what to do, but there was no time to waste in thinking, for she was being addressed by a customer.
"My dear, can you tell me where that young lady is—Number 89, I think, they called her. She waited on me so nicely the other day that I would like to see her again if there is no objection."
Before she had finished speaking Faith had recognized her. It was the kind old lady whom Miss Jennings had dragged behind the counter during the excitement about the fire. She had said at that time that she would not forget her.
Faith's ready tears had already sprung into her eyes, but she managed to tell the good woman what had happened.
When she finished speaking the lady looked terribly grieved. She could not speak for a moment—she was so shocked and indignant.
"That settles my shopping in this place any more," she said finally. "I will not trade in a store where my sister women are so badly treated."
Faith saw her opportunity, so she hurriedly told her about the petition, and how the house that had closed its doors because a son of the junior partner died would not spare half a day to let its employees attend the funeral of a comrade.
"What a shame!" said the lady, carefully lowering her voice. "What a pity that the public should not know of all these things. I am sure it would result in their losing many customers."
"If there was only some way to make them more considerate," said Faith sadly, "and I am sure there is—I am praying for them daily."
"Dear, dear, you don't say!" said the lady, a little surprised. "Why, it is strange that I did not think of that before, for I am accustomed to going to the Lord with everything!"