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The Sagebrusher

Chapter 3 FIFTY-FIFTY

Word Count: 2477    |    Released on: 06/12/2017

fog commingled. It was evening, and the walks were covered with crowded and hurrying human beings seeking their own homes-men done with their office labors, young women fro

s was their daily wont; the former coming from her place in one of the great de

ar, swinging on the straps as it screeched its way around the curves, through the crowded portions of the city. It was long before they got seats, three-quarters o

le and a wide glance into the eyes of a young man against w

of her mouth gave proof of her weariness, but there was a thoroughbred vigor, a silken-strong fairness about her, which, with the self-respecting erectness in her carriage, rather belied the common garb she wore. Her frock was that of the sales-woman, her gloves were bad

holly uncomely. She was a trifle younger than Mary Warren-the latter might have been perhaps five and twenty; perhaps a little older, perhaps not quite so old-but none the less seemed if no

the two were able to find seats, a trifle to themselves in a corner of the car. "Looks like they mi

turns in buying. Mary Warren began to grow more grave of face as she heard the news from the l

d to Mary Warren's arm. "Don't mind, Sis," said she. "

said Mary simply,

wrong at the store?" She was looking at her room-mate keenly. This was the

war, and more girls ready to work." Mary Warren only answered after a

or a time. "It looks bad,

aded. Ten dollars a week may be an enormous sum, even when

against the icy wind, made their way certain blocks toward the door which meant home for them. They

ft one burning, for they furnished their own fuel; and in the mor

ing chair as she would have busied herself with the kindling. "Let me, n

the room. The girls, too tired and cold to take off their wraps, sat for a time, their hand

he still had in her hands the long knitting needles, the ball of yellowish ya

friend. "The war's over, thank God! Give yourself a chanct. Get warm first, anyways.

having trouble with

a lot to have your ey

they sent me his decoration. And I'm the last of our family-and a woman-and-and not seeing very well. Annie, he was my reliance-and I was his, poor boy, because of his

dgeted about, walked away, fiddled with her hair before th

ews. I know, and I've knew it.

urned her way, unw

as rush is over," Annie finished. She saw the sudden shudde

ust as well to face things. What I've got is yours, of course, but how much have we got, together? What chanct has a girl got? And a blind woman's a beggar

what do

even through your glasses. It hurts. We've jus

ks, "well, then-and what then? I can't be a burden on you-you've done more

ugh for two, at ten per, and be decent. Go out on the streets and see the boys still in their uniforms. Every

ter yourself than to talk the

ou was different; and I didn't come from much or have much schooling. I've been to scho

er, but Annie brok

to hand it to them that this duty stuff has got a strong punch behind it. Besides, the kid idea makes a hit with me. But even

n't! I'd die before I'd go into your own real home! Of course

ng about Mary Warren when she was eighteen, and pretty as a picture. I ain't even talking about Mary a year ago, wearing dark glasses, but still having a good chanct in the store. What I'm talking about now is Mary Warren down and ou

et one-it's no cinch. And now, women getting plentier and plentier, and men still scarcer and scarcer,

companion. "I wi

ll be for a woman, and now her odds is a lot worse, they say, even for the well and strong ones. Maybe part of the trouble with us women was we never looked on this business o

no answer. And Mary Warren, broken-hearted, high-head

bread, some tinned goods, a pair of apples. She put the coffee pot to boil upon the little stove, pushing back the ornamental acorn which covered the lid at i

ot two girls in all Cleveland led more frugal

ie Squires. "You needn't wipe them-no,

Mary Warren. "You're the best girl in the world. But we'll

, too, don't you think?" she added. "

rror, pasted them against the glass, flattening them out so that in the morning they might be "ironed," as she called it. This done, each girl deliberately sat down and removed her shoes and stockings. The stockings themselves now came in for washing-an alter

l Annie rose and tiptoed across to get a pair each

to peter out already. I wish't Mr. McAdoo, or whoever it is, 'd see about this coal business. Gee, I hope these things'll get dry before

tered in that room had means of registration been present. The two young women huddled closer under the scanty cov

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