ecloths; all for a dollar'n a
half per, which I understand is under union rates. Course, Sadie always
insists on throwin' in something for overtime; but winnin' the extra
didn't seem to be Lindy's main object. She just wanted to keep goin',
and if the work campaign wa'n't all planned out for her to cut loose on
the minute she arrived, she'd most have a fit. Even insisted on havin'
her meals served on the sewin' table, so she wouldn't lose any time.
Sounds too good to be true, don't it? But remember this ain't a class
I'm describin': it's just Lindy.

And of all the dried-up little old maids I ever see, Lindy was the
queerest specimen. Seems she was well enough posted on the styles, and
kept the run of whether sleeves was bein' worn full or tight, down over
the knuckles or above the elbow, and all that; but her own costume was
always the same,--a dingy brown dress that fits her like she'd cut it
out in the dark and had put it together with her eyes shut,--a faded old
brown coat with funny sleeves that had little humps over the shoulders,
and a dusty black straw lid of no partic'lar shape, that sported a bunch
of the saddest lookin' violets ever rescued from the ashheap.

Then she had such a weird way of glidin' around silent, and of shrinkin'
into corners, and flattenin' herself against the wall whenever she met
anyone. Meek and lowly? Say, every motion she made seemed to be sort of
a dumb apology for existin' at all! And if she had to go through a room
where I was, or pass me in the hall, she'd sort of duck her head, hold
one hand over her mouth, and scuttle along like a mouse beatin' it for
his hole.

You needn't think I'm pilin' on the agony, either. I couldn't exaggerate
Lindy if I tried. And if you imagine it's cheerin' to have a human being
as humble as all that around, you're mistaken. Kind of made me feel as
if I was a slave driver crackin' the whip.

And there wa'n't any special reason that I could see for her actin' that
way. Outside of her clothes, she wa'n't such a freak. That is, she
wa'n't deformed, or anything like that. She wa'n't even wrinkled or gray
haired; though how she kept from growin' that way I couldn't figure out.
I put it down that her lonesome, old maid existence must have struck in
and paralyzed her soul.

There was another queer quirk to her too. Work up as much sympathy as
you wanted to, you couldn't do anything for her. Sadie ain't slow at
that, you know. She got int'rested in her rig