“I would rather not stop for that if you want me to begin at once,” said Ellen.
Flynn looked abashed. “Oh, we'd rather have you begin on the even week—it makes less bother over the account,” he said. “Monday morning at seven sharp, then.”
“Yes,” said Ellen.
Flynn walked off with an abrupt duck of his head. He somehow felt that he had been rebuffed, and Ellen rose.
“I told you you'd get one,” said the girl at the desk. “Catch Ed Flynn not giving a pretty girl a job.” She said it with an accent of pain as well as malice. Ellen looked at her with large, indignant eyes. She had not the least idea what she meant, at least she realized only the surface meaning, and that angered her.
“I suppose he gave me the job because there was a vacancy,” she returned, with dignity.
The other girl laughed. “Mebbe,” said she.
Ellen continued to look at her, and there was something in her look not only indignant, but appealing. Nellie Stone's expression changed again. She laughed uneasily. “Land, I didn't mean anything,” said she. “I'm glad for you that you got the job. Of course you wouldn't have got it if there hadn't been a chance. One of the girls got married last week, Maud Millet. I guess it's her place you've got. I'm real glad you've got it.”
“Thank you,” said Ellen.
“Good-bye,” said the girl.