a dozen.” The woman gave a hard little laugh.
“Five dollars apiece!” she said. “Not much! We pay five dollars a dozen.”
“A dozen? Five dollars for all that work! Why, each of those corners is as much work as a whole doily.”
“Yes, just about; do you work fast?”
“Yes; pretty fast.”
Patty was doing some mental calculation. Three dozen of those pieces meant an interminable lot of work. But it also meant fifteen dollars, and Patty’s spirit was now fully roused.
“I’ll take three dozen,” she said, decidedly; “and I’ll bring them back, finished, a week from to-day.”
“My, you must be a swift worker,” said the woman, in a disinterested voice.
She was already sorting out silks, as with a practised hand, and making all into a parcel.
Patty was about to offer her a visiting card, as she assumed she must give her address, when the woman said:
“Eighteen dollars, please.”
“What?” said Patty. “What for?”
“Security. You don’t suppose we let everybody walk off with our materials, and never come back, do you?”
“Do you doubt my honesty?” said Patty, haughtily.
“Don’t doubt anybody’s honesty,” was the reply. “Some folks don’t have any to doubt. But it’s the rule of the house. Six dollars a dozen is the deposit price for that pattern.”
“But eighteen dollars is more than you’re going to pay me for the work,” said Patty.
“Yes,” said the woman, “but can’t you understand? This is a deposit to protect ourselves if you never return, or if you spoil the work. If you bring it back in satisfactory condition, at the appointed time, we return your deposit, and pay you the price agreed upon for the work.”
“Oh, I see,” said Patty, taking out her purse. “And it does seem fair. But isn’t it hard for poor girls to put up that deposit?”
“Yes, it is.” The woman’s face softened a little. “But they get it back,—if they do the work right.”
“And suppose I bring it back unfinished, or only part done?”
“If what you do is done right, you’ll get paid. And if the pieces you don’t do are unsoiled and in good condition, we redeem them. But if you care for steady work here, you’d better not take more’n you can accomplish.”
“Thank you,” said Patty, slowly. “I’ll keep the three dozen. Good-morning.”
“Good-day,” said the woman, curtly, and turned away with a tired sigh.
Patty went out to the street, and found Miller looking exceedingly anxious about the prolonged absence of his young mistress.
A look of relief overspread his face as she appeared, and when she got into the car and said: “Home, Miller,” he started with an air of decided satisfaction.
Chapter VIII.
Embroidered Blossoms
It was after twelve o’clock when Patty reached home, and she found Nan, with her wraps on, rather anxiously awaiting her.
“Patty! Wherever have you been all this time?” she cried, as Patty came in with her big bundle.
“Laying the foundations of my great career; and, oh, Nan, it was pretty awful! I’m in for it, I can tell you!”
“What a goose you are!” But Nan smiled affectionately at the rosy, excited face of her stepdaughter.
“Well, I’m going out on a short errand, Patty. I’ll be home to luncheon at one, and then you must tell me all about it.”
Patty ran up to her own room, and, flinging off her hat and coat, sat down to open her bundle of work.
It was appalling. The portion to be embroidered looked larger than it had done in the shop, and the pattern was one of the most intricate and elaborate she had ever seen.
“Thank goodness, they’re all alike,” thought poor Patty. “After I do one, the others will be easier.”
She flew for her embroidery hoops and work-basket, and began at once on one of the centrepieces.
The pattern was a floral design, tied with bow-knots and interlaced with a conventional lattice-work. The shading of the blossoms was complicated, and showed many shades of each colour. The bow-knots were of a solid colour, but required close, fine stitches of a tedious nature, while the lattice-work part seemed to present an interminable task.
Patty was a skilful embroiderer, and realised at her first glance that she had a fearful amount of work before her.
But as yet she was undismayed, and cheerfully started in on the flowers.
She selected the right silks, cut the skeins neatly, and put them in thread papers.
“For,” she thought, “if I allow my silks to get tangled or mixed up, it will delay me, of course.”
At one o’clock, Nan came to her room.
“Didn’t you hear the luncheon gong?” she said.
“No,” replied Patty, looking up. “Is it one o’clock already?”
“For goodness’, gracious’ sake, Patty! What are you doing? Is that your ‘occupation’?”
“Yes,” said Patty, proudly displaying a wild rose, beautifully worked, and carefully tinted. “Don’t I do it nicely?”
“Indeed you do! Your embroidery is always exquisite. But are you going to work that whole centrepiece?”
“No, only a section,—see, just this much.”
Patty indicated the portion she was to work, but she didn’t say that she had thirty-five more, carefully laid away in a box, to do within the week.
“Well,” agreed Nan, “that’s not such a terrific task. But will they give you fifteen dollars for that piece?”
“No,” said Patty, smiling a little grimly; “but there are others.”
“Oho! A lot of them! A dozen, I suppose. They always give out work by dozens. Well, girlie, I don’t want to be discouraging, but you can’t do a dozen in a week. Come on down to luncheon.”
At the table, Patty gave Nan a graphic description of her morning’s experiences.
Though more or less shocked at the whole performance, Nan couldn’t help laughing at Patty’s dramatic recital, and the way in which she mimicked the various people.
“And yet, Nan,” she said, “it’s really pathetic; they all seemed so busy and so tired. The woman who gave me the work was like a machine,—as if she just fed out centrepieces to people who came for them. I’m sure she hasn’t smiled for fourteen years. The only gay one in the place was the red-headed boy; and he talked such fearful slang it cured me of ever using it again! Father will be glad of that, anyway. Hereafter I shall converse in Henry James diction. Why, Nan, he said, ‘Pipe de guy wit’ de goggles’!”
“What did he mean?” asked Nan, puzzled.
“Oh, he meant, ‘observe the gentleman wearing spectacles.’”
“How did you know?”
“Intuition, I suppose. And then, he pointed to the man in question.”