Whenever he came down into the rag-store he took the bow-legged girl to one side and spoke to her about something. The two seemed to be on very familiar terms and it was stated that the girl got a far higher wage than any of the other workers; ten shillings a week was paid to her, some hinted. Suddenly, however, she left the place and did not come back again: but now the master came down the stairs oftener than ever before. One evening just as work was stopping the moon-head appeared, shone for a moment under the gaslight, then came forward.
“There’s some linen rags here that I want sorted up to-night,” he said, licking his lips. “I want one of ye to stay here and do the work.”
He looked round as he spoke and his eyes rested on Norah, who was wrapping her shawl over her shoulders.
“Will ye stay here?” he asked.
“All right,” said Norah, and took off her shawl again.
The rest of the workers went upstairs, a bit envious perhaps of the girl who was picked out for special work in the fetid hole. Master and servant were left alone, but Norah wished that she had gone away with the rest; she wanted so much to see her child. The cough which the little boy had contracted on the night of Sheila Carrol’s death, ten months before, had never gone wholly away, and now it was worse than ever. The mother herself was not feeling very well; the sharp pain in her chest troubled her a great deal at night.
“Ye’re a good sorter, I hear,” said the master, licking his lips, and Norah noticed the hairs of his nostrils quivering as if touched by a breeze. “Ye’ll not live well on seven shillin’s a week, will ye?” he asked.
“One must live somehow,” said Norah, bending down and picking up a handful of rags from the floor. “And a few shillin’s goes a long way when one is savin’.”
She started even as she spoke, for a large soft hand had gripped her wrist and she looked up to find her master’s little glistening eyes looking into hers. She could see the wrinkles on his forehead, the red weal that the rim of his hat had left on the temples, the few stray hairs that yet remained on the top of the pink head.
“What would ye be wantin’ with me?” she asked.