"If a job you want it," he said, "you should go round to the back door and wait till the foreman comes."
"Me no want job," she said. "Me coosin."
"Cousin!" Abe cried. "Whose cousin?"
"Lina's coosin," said the girl. She held out her
hand and, opening it, disclosed a two-dollar bill all damp and wrinkled. "Me want dress like Lina."
"What!" Abe cried. "So soon already!"
"Lina got nice red dress. She show it me last night," the girl said. "Me got one, too."
She smiled affably, and for the first time Abe noticed the smooth, fair hair, the oval face and the slender, girlish figure that seemed made for an Empire gown. Then, of course, there was the two-dollar bill and its promise of a cash sale, which always makes a strong appeal to a credit-harried mind like Abe's. "Oh, well," he said with a sigh, leading the way to the rack of Empire gowns in the rear of the store, "if I must I suppose I must."
He selected the smallest gown in stock and handed it to her.
"If you can get into that by your own self you can have it for two dollars," he said, pocketing the crumpled bill. "I don't button up nothing for nobody."