“What can you do, Miss Kemper?” asked Mrs. Sharp.
“I think I may say I have been thoroughly drilled in plain sewing both by hand and with the machine,” Floy answered modestly; “and for the last year I have fitted and made my common dresses, and generally assisted with the better ones.”
“You may begin with this,” said Mrs. Sharp, handing her a dress-skirt of cheap material.
“That sounds very well, but we shall see what we shall see,” was what Floy read in her countenance. “And she shall see,” was the girl’s mental resolve.
“She’s a treasure—this new arrival—if she only keeps on as she’s begun,” Mrs. Sharp said, with a triumphant smile, talking to Hetty that night after the apprentices and journey-women had retired; “as handy and neat a sewer as ever you saw, both by hand and on the machine, and turns off nearly twice as much work as any one of the others.”
“That’s splendid, Aunt Prue,” returned Hetty, “but we must be careful not to work a willing horse to death.”
“Of course, Hetty; did I ever do that?”
An odd little smile played about the girl’s lips, but she only said:
“We’ve taken in a good many orders to-day; sold off most of our stock of ready-made hats too, and—there! it’s striking eleven, and I have two hats to trim before I go to bed.”
“You’re worth your weight in gold, Hetty, and it’s a fine thing you need so little sleep,” remarked her aunt. “But I think Sarah should relieve you of the oversight of Patsy and the meals more than she does.”