“Don’t worry about me, girlie. You forget that Sunday school stuff and you’ll get along with me fine. You’re hungry, aren’t you, kid?”
“I’m starving,” replied the girl.
“Come with me. I’ll have the chef get you a big feed. After that I want you to come back and do what I tell you. I won’t be hard on you, kid. You’ll not have to work tonight. All I’ll want you to do is sit up on the stand with my other entertainers.”
Elsie was too broken in spirit to reply. She followed her master dumbly. He led her to one of his small private dining rooms, arranged a seat for her and turned on the lights. Then he went back to the kitchen to order the girl’s meal.
After Druce had left, Elsie folded her arms on the table and cushioning her head on them, began to weep softly. Druce returned with the food, kissed her to take the sting from the feed, which both he and she knew was the price of her shame, and left her. The girl ate ravenously. Afterward she fell into an uneasy slumber against the cushions of the booth.
She was awakened by someone entering the room. Looking up, she saw the bowed figure and gray hair of an elderly woman. The intruder carried a bucket of hot water in one hand and a mop in the other. She had come into the booth thinking it unoccupied, and did not see Elsie until she was very close to her.
“I beg your pardon,” she said, dropping her mop and bucket and starting back.
Elsie stared at her. Then she stood up, her face pale as death, her eyes starting like the eyes of one who has seen a vision.
“Mother!” she screamed. “Oh, God! Mother!” and flung herself into her mother’s arms.