“I did, too; you can't depend on a thing Ed Flynn says. You're awful slow. He praises you because you are good-lookin'.”
Ellen turned and faced her. “Look here,” said she.
The other girl looked at her with unspeakable impudence, and yet under it was that shadow of dejection and that irresponsible childishness.
“Well, I am lookin',” said she, “what is it?”
“You need not speak to me again in that way,” said Ellen, “and I want you to understand it. I will not have it.”
“My, ain't you awful smart,” said the other girl, sneeringly, but she went on with her work without another word. Presently she said to Ellen, kindly enough: “If you lay the shoes the way I do, so, you can get them faster. You'll find it pays. Every little saving of time counts when you are workin' by the piece.”
“Thank you,” said Ellen, and did as she was instructed. She began to work with exceeding swiftness for a beginner. Her fingers were supple, her nervous energy great. Flynn came and stood beside her, watching her.
“If you work at that rate, you'll make it pretty profitable,” he said.
“Thank you,” said Ellen.
“And a square knot every time,” he added, with almost a caressing inflection. Mamie Brady tied in the twine with compressed lips. Granville Joy passed them, pushing a rack full of shoes to another department, and he glanced at them jealously. Still he was not seriously alarmed as to Flynn, who, although he was good-looking, was a Catholic. Mrs. Zelotes seemed an effectual barrier to that.