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The austere Miss Susan H. Croft unbent in a nutcracker smile. Only Miss Gladys Orton-Wells remained silent, thoughtful, unenthusiastic. Her eyes were on Emma's face. A heavy, comfortable step sounded in the hall outside the office door. Emma turned with a smile to the stout, motherly, red-cheeked woman who entered, smoothing her coarse brown hair with work-roughened fingers.
Lily looked again at Miss Orton-Wells, and she did not mean to be cruel. Then she looked quickly at Emma, to detect a possible joke. But Mrs. Buck's face bore no trace of a smile. "Clothes!" repeated Lily. And a slow red mounted to Gladys Orton-Wells' pale face. When Lily went out Sunday afternoons, she might have passed for a millionaire's daughter if she hadn't been so well dressed.
Sophy has educated her children, married them off, and welcomed their children. She thinks that excuses her for having been frivolous and extravagant at sixteen. But we know better, don't we? I'm using you as a horrible example, Sophy." Sophy turned affably to the listening three. "Don't let her string you," she said, and winked one knowing eye. Mrs. Orton-Wells stiffened.
At that there came a look into Miss Orton-Wells' eyes, and you saw that most decidedly she had her charm. Up spoke Mrs. Orton-Wells. "Gladys is such an enthusiast! That's really her reason for being here. Gladys is very much interested in working girls. In fact, we are all, as you probably know, intensely interested in the working woman." "Thank you!" said Emma McChesney Buck. "That's very kind.
Gladys was wearing black, and black did not become her. It made her creamy skin sallow. Her suit was severely tailored, and her hat was small and harshly outlined, and her hair was drawn back from her face. All this, in spite of the fact that Miss Orton-Wells was of the limp and fragile type, which demands ruffles, fluffiness, flowing lines and frou-frou.
Gladys Orton-Wells looked down at her hands for one terrified moment, then she threw her head up bravely. There was no lack of color in her cheeks now. She stepped to the middle of the room. "What I have to say won't take five minutes," she said, in her clear, well-bred tones.
Occupying as you do a position unique in the business world, Mrs. Buck, we expect much from your cooperation with us in this cause." Emma McChesney Buck had been gazing at Mrs. Orton-Wells with an intentness as flattering as it was unfeigned. But at the close of Mrs. Orton-Wells' speech she was strangely silent. She glanced down at her shoes.
"Lily," said Emma, "Miss Orton-Wells is going to speak to the girls this noon. I thought you might help by telling her whatever she wants to know about the girls' work and all that, and by making her feel at home." "Well, sure," said Lily, and smiled again her heart-warming smile. "I'd love to." "Miss Orton-Wells," went on Emma smoothly, "wants to speak to the girls about clothes."
"This is Miss Susan H. Croft" indicating a rather sparse person of very certain years "But I need scarcely introduce her." "Scarcely," murmured Buck, and wondered why. "This is my daughter, Miss Gladys Orton-Wells." Buck found himself wondering why this slim, negative creature should have such sad eyes. There came an impatient snort from Mannie Nussbaum.
We working women are very grateful to you." "We!" exclaimed Mrs. Orton-Wells and Miss Susan Croft blankly, and in perfect time. Emma smiled sweetly. "Surely you'll admit that I'm a working woman." Miss Susan H. Croft was not a person to be trifled with. She elucidated acidly. "We mean women who work with their hands." "By what power do you think those shears were moved across the cutting-table?
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