She met Ser Giulia coming down the stairs of their house. The little woman looked quickly at the bundle she carried as she asked why it had been brought back.
“She wants it altered! Dio mio! And I worked so hard at it. How much of the money has she given you?”
“She has given nothing; I hope she will pay when I take the work back.”
But the other began to cry. “Perhaps the stitches are large,” she said, sobbing. “I know my eyes are weak. No one will pay me, and I owe the baker more than ten lire. Soon we shall have to beg our bread in the streets.”
“Don’t,” Olive said hurriedly. “Don’t. I have been with you more than a month and I have not found work yet, but I will not be a burden to you much longer. I shall find something to do soon and then you need not do so much and we shall manage better.”
“Oh, child, I know you do your best.”
“Don’t cry then. I will get money somehow. Don’t be afraid.”