The dress was to be tried on, and Nannette began to strip off without a blush. Athalia did blush, and did object, and would not stay.
"Well, then, George, go down a few minutes to the parlor, that is a good soul, she is so fastidious."
No, he did not want to be seen there; he would go home.
"Well, then, give me some money to pay for making this dress. You gave me the stuff, you might as well go the whole figure."
He handed her a ten dollar bill; she handed it to Athalia,—the dress was only five—remarking:
"Give him the change; I won't take but a five out of it this time."
Athalia had no change. She looked at him, to be certain of her man, and remarked:
"No; I will keep the whole, and credit him the balance, on account of seven dollars he has owed me these two months, for work for his wife."
He stammered something about mistake—not him—cursed blunder—and left the room.
The dress fitted beautifully, and Athalia felt the soothing influence of praise for her work, and would have left happier than she came, but just then her ear caught a voice in the next room. She listened. A woman replied: