You'd think
she was some princess travelling incognito. There isn't
one of us knows who she is, or where she came from,
or who she belongs to. He brought her and her machine
into the office one morning, and set 'em down at a table,
and that's all there is about it, as far as we're concerned.
It's pretty hard on the girl, for I guess she'd like
to talk; and to any one that didn't know the old man----"
Walker broke off and drained his glass of what was left
in it.
Corey thought of the words he had overheard from Lapham
to the girl. But he said, "She seems to be kept pretty busy."
"Oh yes," said Walker; "there ain't much loafing round
the place, in any of the departments, from the old man's down.
That's just what I say. He's got to work just twice as hard,
if he wants to keep everything in his own mind. But he
ain't afraid of work. That's one good thing about him.
And Miss Dewey has to keep step with the rest of us.
But she don't look like one that would take to it naturally.
Such a pretty girl as that generally thinks she does enough
when she looks her prettiest."
"She's a pretty girl," said Corey, non-committally. "But I
suppose a great many pretty girls have to earn their living."
"Don't any of 'em like to do it," returned the book-keeper.
"They think it's a hardship, and I don't blame 'em.
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