l of her life at
Miss Rankin's, and her work at the store. After a little she talked
freely, glad to pour the tale of her troubles into a sympathetic ear.

"I _hate_ it all--that boarding-house, where nothing and nobody is
really clean, and the store where only the pretty girls or the extra
smart ones ever get on. The pretty girls always have chances, but
me--I'm homely as sin, and I know it; and I'm not smart, and I know
that, too. I shall get my walking ticket the first dull spell, and
then----"

"Then, what, Lizette?"

"The Lord knows. It's a hard world for girls, Olga."

"You've no relatives?"

"Only some cousins. They're all as poor as poverty too, and they don't
care a pin for me."

"Is there any kind of work you would really like if you could do it?"

"What's the use of talking--I can't do it."

"But tell me," Olga urged.

"You'll think I'm a fool."

"No, I will not," Olga promised.

"It seems ridiculous----" Lizette hesitated, the colour rising in her
sallow cheeks, "but I'd just _love_ to make beautiful white
things--lingerie, you know, like what I sell at the store. It would be
next best to having them to wear myself. I don't care so much about the
outside things--gowns and hats--but I think it would be just heavenly to
have all the underneath things white and lacey, and lovely--don't you
think so?"

"I never thought of it. You see I don't care about clothes," Olga
returned. "Can you sew, Lizette?"

Lizette hesitated, then, with a look half shamefaced and half proud, she
drew from her bag a bit of linen.

"It was a damaged handkerchief. I got it for five cents, at a sale," she
explained. "It will make a jabot."

"And you did this?" Olga asked.

Lizette nodded. "I know it isn't good work, but if I had time I could
learn----"

"Yes, you could--if you had the time and a few lessons. Are your eyes
strong?"

The other nodded again. "Strong as they are ugly," she flung out.

"Leave this with me for a day or two, will you, Lizette?"

"Uh-huh," Lizette returned indifferently. "Give it to you, if you'll
take it."

"Oh no--it's too pretty. Lizette, you hate it so at Miss Rankin's--why
don't you rent a room and get your own meals as I do?"

"Couldn't. I'm so dead tired most nights that I'd rather go hungry than
get my own supper. Some girls don't seem to mind being on their feet
from eight to six, but I can't stand it. Sometimes I get so tired it
seems as if I'd rather _die_ than drag throu