By Lincoln Steffens
“There’s an extra, a Christmas girl downstairs, that I think you’ll want to keep; she’s a worker, but——”
The big store manager looked up at the tall, prim New England woman who was the head of his employment bureau, and he understood. But he’s a brute.
“But?” he insisted.
“Her references aren’t good.”
“Not good?” he said. “You mean they ain’t good people?”
“Oh,” she exclaimed, “they’re good people; they’re very good people, but——”
“But?”
“They prefer not to speak, for or against.”
“I see,” he growled. “A case for bad people. Send her up to me.”