"I will take them away immediately, sir," said the buyer, apologetically. "They were made in a 'sweatshop,' you see, so it is quite possible they are permeated with unpleasant odors, but I will have them aired before they are put on the counters."
"Are you sure they are not permeated with disease?" asked Mr. Denton, suddenly. "I am told that those 'sweat-shops' are disgustingly dirty places."
"Oh, the Board of Health looks after that," said the buyer quickly, "and, besides, I saw a good many of Finckelstein's hands—they were mostly clean, respectable looking women."
"How much do they get apiece for these?" questioned Mr. Denton again, as he picked up a garment and held it at arm's length to inspect it.
"Oh, about forty cents, I guess; and they can make two in a day. There's a good deal of work on them," was the buyer's answer.
"What do they cost us?"
The question was asked rather sharply.
Mr. Smith consulted his notebook before he answered.
"Fifty cents in gross lots, and sixty by the dozen. We use a great many; it will ruin Goldberg to lose us."
"And what do we get for them?"