“My dear,” said the brisk voice of the lady who had bought the stencilled set, “you seem tired.”
“Why, not so very,” said Winona, coming out of her thinking-fit hastily, and forgetting her accent on the way.
“And don’t you find this a hard life for so young a girl?” went on the lady. “Wouldn’t you rather do something else?”
Winona smiled and shook her head. “I like it,” she said.
The old lady sat down by her and took her hand. Louise, meanwhile, out of hearing, was trying to sell a very lopsided basket to an elderly gentleman.
“My child,” she said, “I can’t help feeling that you’re too intelligent and too refined-looking for a life like this. I am sure you are not an Italian. Is there nothing I could do to help you?”
Winona felt very uncomfortable. She hadn’t bargained for having people take a personal interest in her.
“Really there isn’t anything,” she answered truthfully. “I have a very good time. I can’t tell you all about it, but indeed, I have a very pleasant life.”
But the old lady was not to be daunted.
“My dear child, there is something very attractive about you,” she said. “I believe with the proper education you would become an unusually charming young girl. You are young enough still to be trained. Is that girl with you your sister?”