“You've done me a good turn, Norah,” she said as the door closed upon them, “and I'll not soon forget you.”
“Ugh!” ejaculated Norah as she looked into Pinky's bruised face; “Sal's hit you square in the eye; it'll be black as y'r boot by morning. I'll get some cold water.”
A basin of cold water was brought, and Pinky held a wet cloth to the swollen spot for a long time, hoping thereby not only to reduce the swelling, but to prevent discoloration.
“Y'r a fool to meddle with Sal,” said Norah as she set the basin of water before Pinky.
“Why don't you meddle with her? Why do you let her beat poor little Kit the way she does?” demanded Pinky.
Norah shrugged her shoulders, and answered with no more feeling in her voice than if she had been speaking of inanimate things:
“She's got to keep Kit up to her work.”
“Up to her work!”
“Yes; that's just it. Kit's lazy and cheats—buys cakes and candies; and Sal has to come down on her; it's the way, you know. If Sal didn't come down sharp on her all the while, Kit wouldn't bring her ten cents a day. They all have to do it—so much a day or a lickin'; and a little lickin' isn't any use—got to 'most kill some of 'em. We're used to it in here. Hark!”
The screams of a child in pain rang out wildly, the sounds coming from across the narrow street. Quick, hard strokes of a lash were heard at the same time. Pinky turned a little pale.