“Yes, sir. Well—they sometimes gives me extra work to do at home. It do come pretty hard on me after goin’ through the regular day’s work, from early mornin’ till night, but then, you see, it brings in a little more money—and, I’m strong, thank God.”
Sir Richard looked at Hetty’s thin and colourless though pretty face, and thought it possible that she might be stronger with advantage.
“Of late,” continued the girl, “I’ve bin havin’ extra work in this way, and last week I got twelve children’s ulsters to make up. This job when finished would bring me six and sixpence.”
“How much?”
“Six and sixpence, sir.”
“For the whole twelve?” asked Sir Richard.
“Yes, sir—that was sixpence halfpenny for makin’ up each ulster. It’s not much, sir.”
“No,” murmured Wealth in an absent manner; “sixpence halfpenny is not much.”
“But when I took them back,” continued Hetty—and here the tears became again obstreperous and difficult to restrain—“the master said he’d forgot to tell me that this order was for the colonies, that he had taken it at a very low price, and that he could only give me three shillin’s for the job. Of—of course three shillin’s is better the nothin’, but after workin’ hard for such a long long time an’ expectin’ six, it was—”
Here the tears refused to be pent up any longer, and the poor girl quietly bending forward hid her face in her hand.