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"Winnie Childs The Shop Girl"


"Princess, queen!" he murmured _sotto voce_, and Win might have had
the privilege of exchanging a smile with him on the strength of the
joke, but thought it might be wiser not to have heard.
Luckily black skirts and blouses were not the craze of the moment.
Women were besieging a beehive of corsets and a hotbed of petticoats,
reduced (so said huge red letters overhead) to one third of their
original price. In less than five minutes Win had secured a costume
with the right measurements, and for the two portions of which it
consisted, had paid exactly one week's salary.
With an unwrapped parcel rolled under one arm, she battled her way
back to the staircase she had descended (not daring to squeeze her
unworthy body into a crowded elevator), and toiled up to the eighth
floor. There, she had been told, were dressing-rooms as well as
lockers; a rest room (converted into a schoolroom from the hour of
eight until ten), and the restaurant for women employees.
Lightning change act first! Black Effect to take the place of brown,
a rush for the dressing-room, vague impression of near marble basins
and rows of mirrors; tall, slim girl in front of one, quite the proper
"saleslady" air, in new, six-dollar black skirt and silk blouse
lightened with sewed-in frills of white, fit not noticeably bad; dash
along corridor again for locker room, but sudden wavering pause at
sight of confused group: half-fainting girl in black being handed over
to capped and aproned nurse by two youths at an open door, glimpse of
iron bedsteads etched in black against varnished white wall, door shut
with slap; youths marching light heartedly away, keeping time to the
subdued whistle of "Waiting for the Robert E.


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