I thought, but dared not give it utterance. And I almost wept at the certainty of her sad fate, if she remained in the city; a fate she could not escape from, without abandoning her helpless mother, one of the poor sewing women of this pandemonium.
"Now, will you buy the gloves, for I have answered all the questions you asked?"
"One more. What is your mother's name?"
"May—Mrs. May. If you should want any shirts made, sir, there is her name and number on that little card."
"Is that your mother's writing?"
"Yes, sir; don't she write pretty? I can write too, but not like that."
"Well, I shall call and see your mother, if I want work. Here is the money for the gloves."
"I cannot make change; have you got the change, or shall I run out and get it changed? I will if you will keep my basket."
"No, no; I do not wish any change. You may keep it all."
"Oh, that is just the way that good old gentleman said last night—keep it all. Ah, me!"