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"Winnie Childs The Shop Girl"

"Up to _me_, indeed! And he gives me this rag
bag!"
"It'll be nuts to _her_ if you're downed," remarked a girl with a
round, pink face.
"Don't you think I _know_ it?" Miss Stein demanded fiercely. Her eyes
filled with tears, which she angrily dried with a very dirty
handkerchief that looked strangely out of keeping in the manicured
hands. "There's nothing to do, or I'd do it, except to give him a
piece of my mind and throw up the job before they have the chance to
fire me."
"You wouldn't--just at this time!" cried the anemic girl.
"Wouldn't I? You'll see. I don't care a tinker's curse what becomes of
me after to-day."
Win's ears were burning as if they had been tweaked. The minutes were
passing. She could ask no help, no information concerning her duties.
If she put a question as to what she was to do she would be snubbed,
or worse. Could the far-away and almost omnipotent Mr. Meggison have
had secret knowledge of this lion's den into which he had thrown her?
He had said the bargain square and the two-hours' sale would be a test
of character. At this rate, she would fail ignominiously, and she did
not want to fail. But neither did she want the beautiful Jewess to
fail.


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