“That’s the way it started.” Sally heaved a sigh. “Old C. K.—everyone called him that and I never knew his first name—he was so kind and told me so much that I went back again, lots of times.
“By and by I started helping him. Just doing little things. I told people how good he was with radios and they started bringing them to be fixed. We came to have quite a business. As soon as high school was over I worked there all the time.”
“You must have made quite a lot of money.”
“Oh, no, not so much. You see,” Sally leaned forward, “we were like some very fine surgeons. We charged what people could afford to pay.”
“I see.”
“And there are lots more poor people than rich ones.”
“Always.”
“When a little lame boy came in with a very cheap radio that got the stations all jumbled up, we put in more transformers and tubes, practically made a new radio out of it. Then it worked fine.”
“And then you charged him—”
“Just a dollar.”