It's pretty busy there just now. The young fellows buy gloves
by the dozen for their best girls at Christmas time when they want to
ring a change on flowers. Maybe I'll put you into Gloves, if you'll
agree to make yourself useful."
"I'll try to do my best wherever you put me, Mr. Meggison" said Win,
sounding to herself like a heroine of a Sunday serial, and feeling not
unlike one in a difficult situation at the end of an instalment. At
home, in her father's house, she had occasionally been driven to read
Sunday serials on Sunday. They were the only fiction permitted on that
day.
"That's all right. But now I mean something in particular" explained
Meggison. "I told you what they were saying about you in your
department to see how you'd take it. Well, you didn't seem desperately
shocked at the idea of being engaged by a so-called charitable society
to watch out for any breaks we might make. Not that we do make any, so
your trouble would have been wasted. We give our girls seats and every
living thing the law asks for, and our men make no complaints that we
hear. But, of course, we ain't omnipotent. Things are said, things
happen we don't get onto, little tricks that cost us money.
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