"Well, I hain't quarreling with you about them folks," said the Disagreeable Walnut sententiously, "They're all dead and buried anyhow. And pore Sophia Pease might jes' as well be--mewed up in that Baptist home where her friends, if she's got any, can't see her excepting on Sundays--my stars! I wouldn't go to live in that Home, no sir, I wouldn't--nor I wouldn't want to live at the--" "Can you tell me," Felicia broke in upon this flood of opinions, "Where I could go to see Miss Pease?" "I'm telling you--the Baptist Home--" "I do think she'd know me," Felicia murmured thoughtfully. "I do think she would." She moved toward the door, intent upon trying to see Miss Pease. But the Disagreeable Walnut, for all that she was old, was quite capable of handling her job. She called petulantly after her retreating caller. "What was you coming in for--anything you wanted to buy?" Felicia turned. "How stupid I am to forget. I came because it was Friday, you know, I wanted to have some work, please. For two dollars a day and lunch." The shop keeper pulled a dusty ledger toward her. "Are you registered or new?" "I--I think I'm new, I'm not registered." The ledger was pushed around toward her, the shop keeper reached fretfully for the spattered ink bottle. "By the day or home work?" "By the day," said Felicia decisively. "Then sign here," a trembling finger indicated the line. It was a new page. No one had signed it yet. At the top was printed, NAME ADDRESS JOB APPLIED FOR DATE Mrs. or Miss. And Felicia wrote, guiding the rusty pen carefully. Last of all, she wrote just after the printed Miss, in firm letters, "By The Day," and pushed back the book. The Disagreeable Walnut pursed her lips, she couldn't really see anything through the blur of her glasses. The bell jangled, a brisk old person, much like the Disagreeable Walnut, save that she looked agreeable, entered breathlessly. "Sorry I was late," she dumped various bundles on the counter, "How'd you make out, Susan?" She eyed Felicia as she began pulling at her gloves. "Did my sister find what you wanted?" "She wants work," quavered Susan, considerably less reliant than she'd been a moment before. "I dunno where the work book is. I declare I can't keep track of where you put things, Sarah--is there anybody could use her? She wants sewing." The brisk person swung the book around glancing at it capably as she removed her hat. "Oh, you've signed it in the wrong place. You should have put your name there--not the way you were going to work"--her finger rested on the place Felicia had written. "What is your name? Your name isn't Miss By-the-Day is it?" she asked good-humoredly. "Why, I think it is," Felicia smiled back, "I think it will have to be--it's Day," she added shyly. "Miss or Mrs.?" "Miss." "And what kind of work, please?" "Like the Wheezy--sewing--for two dollars a day and lunch"--she repeated it like a lesson.