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Updated: June 1, 2025
"Have you any more fine shirts for Lizzy Glenn?" called Michael, back to Berlaps, in a loud voice. "I don't know. How has she made them?" "First rate." "Then let her have some more, and pay her for those just brought in." "That's your sorts!" responded Michael, as he took seventy-five cents from the drawer and threw the money upon the counter. "Good work, good pay, and prompt at that.
It was full half an hour after this before the shop was cleared, and then the tailor, instead of coming back to where Mrs. Gaston stood, commenced folding up and replacing his goods upon the shelves. Fearful lest other customers would enter, the seamstress came slowly forward, and again stood near Berlaps.
"Yes, it is," she replied, in a low, sad tone. "I can't get along very fast. I have a constant pain in my side. And there are other reasons." The last sentence was spoken only half aloud, but sufficiently distinct for Berlaps to hear it. "I don't expect my workwomen," he said a little sharply, "to have any reasons for not finishing my work in good season, and bringing it in promptly.
"What do you want here to-night, woman?" asked the tailor, without lifting his eyes from the employment in which he was engaged. "I brought home the other pair of trowsers this morning, but you were not in," Mrs. Gaston replied. "Well?" "Michael couldn't pay me, and so I've run up this evening." "You're a very troublesome kind of a person," said Berlaps, looking her rebukingly in the face.
But the nerveless hand and the weary head of the poor seamstress obeyed the requirements of her will no longer. The needle had to be laid aside, for the finger had no more strength to grasp, nor skill to direct its motions. IT was about ten o'clock on the next morning, when Mrs. Gaston appeared at the shop of Berlaps, the tailor.
Berlaps understood the reason of this application to him, and it caused him to call out to his salesman something after this homely fashion "Why, in thunder, Michael, don't you let the girls that come to the store, alone? Give Lizzy three shirts, and be done with your confounded tom-fooleries! The store is no place for them."
"Michael gave her the direction, and then their intercourse had entire reference to business." After the subject of this brief conversation between Mrs. Gaston and Michael left the store of Mr. Berlaps, she walked slowly in the direction of her temporary home, which was, as has before been mentioned, in an obscure street at the north end.
Ten days to four shirts is unpardonable. You can't earn your salt at that." The young woman made no reply to this, but stood with her eyes drooping to the floor, and her hands leaning hard upon the counter to support herself. Berlaps then commenced examining the shirts. The result of this examination seemed to soften him a little.
There I removed, and managed to live on about one dollar and a quarter a week, which sum, or, at the worst, seventy-five cents or a dollar a week, I have since earned at making fine shirts for Mr. Berlaps at twenty-five cents each. I could have done better than that, but every day I visit my father, and this occupies from two to three hours." "And how is your father?" asked Mrs.
This he gave to her after the funeral, at which there were only three mourners, the mother and her two children. BERLAPS was leaning over his counter late in the afternoon of the second day from that on which the person calling herself Lizzy Glenn had applied for and obtained work, when a young man entered and asked for some article of dress.
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