She had always hated everything that was bright or beautiful, probably because it made her own deficiency in that respect so apparent.
“Miss Walton,” continued Mr. Coolidge, “this is Miss Douglas, and I wish you to assign her a pleasant seat in the hall, and teach her to wire hats.”
“Teach her! I thought no inexperienced hands were wanted here?” exclaimed the woman, measuring the young girl with her keen eyes, and speaking in an impatient tone.
“That was what I said, Miss Walton. I desire you to teach her to wire hats. Please give her some work right away.”
Mr. Coolidge spoke in a quiet, authoritative way, which there was no gainsaying, and he had specified hats, because he knew they were much easier to do than bonnets.
Without replying to him, Miss Walton told Brownie to follow her, and, with a grateful smile and bow to her employer, she obeyed.
She was led to a seat in a quiet corner of the hall, where Miss Walton, sitting down beside her, took up a hat, and without speaking once during the operation, wired it with rapid fingers, Brownie watching intently meanwhile.
“Can you do it?” she asked, curtly, when she had finished.
“I can try,” the young girl answered, with a little sigh, longing to ask a few questions, yet not possessing the courage to do so of the forbidding-looking personage at her side.
And now the wearisome, lonely task of earning her own living was begun.