Marion Marlowe's Christmas Eve, or, The Treachery of a Factory Inspector — page 12: what you’re looking at

Machine-transcribed from the original scan — historical spelling and the odd misread are preserved.

10 Brookes and myself to do what we can! We must not dream of waiting for others to help us!” nd There was a rare smile on her lips as she thought of Dr. ,Brookes, and her heart beat a little faster as she thought of her longing to labor beside him. “He is so noble, so good, and, oh, so pa- tient !” she mused. The sweet girl’s eyes dimmed with tears as she remembered his love for her. As she walked on, thinking deeply, she glanced up now and then at the lamp-posts, for the narrow, crooked streets were very confusing. Suddenly a group of women emerged from a doorway just behind her. They were all much excited, and one of their number was weeping bitterly. “My poor girl, what is the matter?” asked Marion, kindly, as she turned and joined them, her beautiful face glowing with sym- pathy. ‘They've closed up, and they’ve got our money !’’ sobbed the girl, in agony. “It was every cent I had! Oh, it is wicked, wicked!” “T don’t understand,” said Marion, in per- plexity. “Who has your money? Can't you explain it, dear? It is possible that I may be able to help you.” The girl gave her a sharp look, and as her glance fell on Marion’s really expensive gar- ments she seemed to brighten up in a won- derful manner. [inaccustomed to burdening those who were worse off than herself with her troubles, she was glad of an opportunity of unbosom- ing her woe to one whio did not look over- whelmed by care, but who gave her the im- pression of being beyond the reach of trouble. “Why, Solomons, the clothing 1taan, has got it '’ was her quick answer. “Vou see, it is this way, miss: They made us give them a, deposit of six dollars on every dozen pairs MY QUEEN. of pants we took home to make. That was to keep us from stealing any of them, and to make sure we wouldn’t keep our work back. When I brought mine to the store this even- ing the young man took them and paid me for their making, but Solomons had sold out, and I can’t get my’six dollars.” “How much do you get a dozen for making them?” asked Marion. “A dollar and a half. They. were boys’ pants, you know, miss,” éxplained the girl, readily. ‘ : Marion looked aghast. She could hardly believe such a statement, although it was plain that the others saw nothing astonish- ing in it. . ; ‘ “Is that the man in charge?” she asked, under her breath, just as a young man saun- tered to the door and stood gazing out, list-_ lessly. “Yes, miss, that’s him,” said the girl, lower- ing her handkerchief. ‘He was Solomons’ manager yesterday, but he says he’s working for somebody else to-day.” Marion’s fair face flushed, but she con- quered her timidity and walked straight over to the youth, who was standing in the door- way. “Ts it true that these poor girls have been robbed ?” she asked, quietly. i “T guess that’s about the size of it,’ said the fellow, staring at her admiringly. “Solo- mons gave out a lot of cloth that he did not own to be made up and got deposits on it from all his sewers. The firm that owned the cloth took possession this afternoon, and Sol- omons lit out with all the money. We pay ‘em for their work! We can’t square up for f Solomons !” “And they have no redress!” cried Marion, in anguish. ‘No doubt the man Solomons has left town and gone where no one will find him.” “That wasn't necessary,” said the young EOLMIELOOL KS. (Eola yg) gs)