For a time the big man under the drop-light trifled absently with a paper-knife.
"We'll take this matter up, of course," he said presently. "If we need a housecleaning, we'll have it; but I can't believe that things are radically at fault. No department store in the city is more considerate of its people. We were among the first to close Saturday afternoons in midsummer; we offer liberal inducements for special energy during the holidays; we have provided exceedingly attractive lunch-rooms; we even hope, when trade conditions permit, to introduce a form of profit sharing. What more can we do?"
Jean supposed his rhetorical query personal.
"You might pay better wages," she suggested. "Then things like this wouldn't happen."
For the fraction of a second King Henry wore one of his less amiable expressions. It suggested beheading or long confinement in the Tower. Then, immediately, it was glossed by modernity.
"There you trench upon economic grounds," he rejoined heavily. "I wish we might inaugurate a lecture course for our employees, to elucidate the principles which govern a great business. The law of supply and demand, the press of competition, the necessity for costly advertising, these and countless other considerations, which we at the helm appreciate, never enter the shop-girl's head."
Jean was overborne by these impressive phrases. They had never entered her head, certainly, and she was not altogether sure why they should.
"We only ask a living," she said.
"But you shouldn't. We want the girl who asks pin-money, the girl who lives with her family. Have you no family yourself, by the way?"
"My mother is living."