"Two little sisters."
"Do you keep them?"
Faith smiled. "Oh, no! I help—we take lodgers."
"Oh." For a moment Peg was silent, treadling away busily at her machine, and Faith stole a timid glance at her.
Peg was handsome in a bold sort of way. She had jet black hair and a high colour, blue eyes, a little hard in expression, and a fine figure.
She was a power to reckon with in the room in which she worked, as Faith was quick to discover. Even the forewoman, who was thin-lipped and shrewish, seemed a little afraid of her. Presently she asked another question:
"What was your father?"
Faith flushed sensitively. "He was a gentleman," she said proudly.
Peg's blue eyes opened wide and for a moment she stopped work. Then:
"My father was a night-watchman," she said dryly. She snapped off a thread with a vicious little gesture. "He was a drunken brute," she added vehemently. "We were all glad when he died. Were you glad when yours died?"