Dora, with Louis clinging to her skirts, brought seats, and the elder woman continued speaking just where she had left off. Indeed, it seemed as though she had at one time been a voluble talker; but that also had been crushed out of her. “But, of course, you want to know about us, ma’am. Our name is Price,—Susan and Sally Price, and we’ve kep’ respectable, ma’am, though it’s been hard work. We are sewing women; work for Grind and Crushem,—that large shirt factory at the end of Blank Street.” “It must be hard work,” said Dora pitifully. “Well, it ain’t easy,” said Sally Price; “not even as easy as it might be. Some of the factories are running machines by steam, and having all the work done on the premises; but our bosses are too stingy for that. I should think it would pay ‘em, though, in the end.” “I will let you have the room,” said Dora. “When do you want to come?” Decidedly, Dora was a very bad business woman; a short-sighted, easily gulled, and far from sharp business woman. “We’d like to come to-night, so’s to be ready to go to work early to-morrow morning,” answered Miss Price with some show of animation. “But won’t your husband swear at you, for lettin’ it go so cheap?” “He never swears at me,” said Dora, smiling, blushing, and shaking her head at the same time, until she looked so pretty that even the blank face of Susan Price gained a little life and almost smiled. She held out her hand to Louis, who was again struggling towards her, and volunteered her first contribution to the conversation. “Your only one?” she asked. “Yes, my only one, and _so_ good. He is no trouble at all,” answered Dora proudly. “Some folks are happy in this world and some ain’t,” said Susan Price. “I s’pose it’s all right, or it wouldn’t _be_ so.” “You’d better have some tea with me,” returned pitiful Dora, moved almost to tears by the sad patience of this speech. “Then I can show you the room. I’d like you to see it. It has been our own bedroom, but we have spent so much money lately that we must try to save a little. Is there anything to be brought from your other room?” “Our machine and some clo’es; not many. Susan and me can bring ‘em. It’s just around the corner. You see, we generally sew Sundays as well as other days. You won’t mind if you hear the machine on Sunday, ma’am?” “If you must, you must,” said Dora. “I knit on Sunday, often; I am German. But it is pity; you should rest.” “Oh! we never rest,” said Sally quietly. “But maybe it’s Sabbath-breakin’ that brings us such bad luck. I don’t know; but I don’t see how to help it.”