ne, reverting to the original subject.

"Good gracious, who cares what color they were?" cried Abby,
impatiently.

"He looked awful handsome in 'em," said the girl. "He's awful
handsome."

"You'd better look at handsome fellows in your own set, Sadie Peel,"
said Abby, roughly.

The girl, who was extremely pretty, carried herself well, and
dressed with cheap fastidiousness, colored.

"I don't see what we have to think about sets for," said she. "I
guess way back the Peels were as good as the Lloyds. We're in a free
country, where one is as good as another, ain't we?"

"No one is as good as another, except in the sight of the Lord, in
any country on the face of this earth," said Abby.

"If you are as good in your own sight, I don't see that it makes
much difference about the sight of other human beings," said Ellen.
"I guess that's what makes a republic, anyway."

Sadie Peel gave a long, bewildered look at her, then she turned to
Abby.

"Do you know where I can get somebody to do accordion-plaiting for
me?" she asked.

"No," said Abby. "I never expect to get to the height of
accordion-plaiting."

"I know where you can," said another girl, coming up. She had light
hair, falling in a harsh, uncurled bristle over her forehead; her
black gown was smeared with paste, and even her face and hands were
sticky with it.

"There's a great splash of paste on your nose, Hattie Wright," said
Abby.

The girl took out a crumpled handkerchief and began rubbing her nose
absently while she went on talking about the accordion-plaiting.

"There's a woman on Joy Street does it," said she. "She lives just
opposite the school-house, and she does it awful cheap, only three
cents a yard." She thrust the handkerchief into her pocket.

"You haven't got it half off," said Abby.

"Let it stay there, then," said the girl, indifferently. "If you
work pasting linings in a shoe-shop you've got to get pasted
yourself."

Ellen looked at the girl with a curious reflection that she spoke
the truth, that she really was pasted herself, that the soil and the
grind of her labor were wearing on her soul. She had seen this girl
out of the shop--in fact, only the day before--and no one would have
known her for the same person. When her light hair was curled, and
she was prettily dressed, she was quite a beauty. In the shop she
was a slattern, and seemed to go down under the wheels of her toil.

"On Joy Street, you said?" said Sadie Peel.