Lizzy Glenn, as she had called herself, entered at the moment, and heard the remark of the tailor. She glided noiselessly by Mrs. Gaston, and stood farther down the store, with both her body and face turned partly from her, where she waited patiently for the interview between her and Michael to terminate.
The poor, heart-crushed creature did not offer the slightest remonstrance to this act of cruel oppression, but took the half dollar thrown her by Michael for the two jackets with an air of meek resignation. She half turned to go away after doing so, but a thought of her two remaining children caused her to hesitate.
"Haven't you some more trowsers to give out?" she asked, turning again towards Michael.
The sound of her voice reached the ear of the young female who had just entered, causing her to start and look for an instant towards the speaker. But she slowly resumed her former position with a sigh, after satisfying herself by a single glance at the woman, whose voice had fallen upon her ear with a strange familiarity.
"We haven't any more ready, ma'am, just now."
"What have you to give out? Anything?"
"Yes. Here are some unbleached cotton shirts, at seven cents. You can have some of them, if you choose."
"I will take half a dozen," said Mrs. Gaston, in a desponding tone. "Anything is better than nothing."
"Well, Miss Lizzy Glenn," said Michael, with repulsive familiarity, as Mrs. Gaston turned from the counter and left the store, "what can I do for you this morning?"
The young seamstress made no reply, but laid her bundle upon the counter and unrolled it. It contained three fine shirts, with linen bosoms and collars, very neatly made.