standing."

"You're not doing any good standing now," put in Ned. "Why don't you sit
down and have a rest?"

"They don't let us," answered the waitress, cautiously.

"What do they pay?" asked Nellie, sipping her tea and joining in the
waitress' look-out for the manager.

"Fifteen! But they're taking girls on at twelve. Of course there's meals.
But you've got to room yourself, and then there's washing, clean aprons
and caps and cuffs and collars. You've got to dress, too. There's nothing
left. We ought to get a pound."

"What----"

"S-s-s!" warned the waitress, straightening herself up as the manager
appeared.

* * * * *

They were in a fashionable Sydney restaurant, on George-street, a large,
painted, gilded, veneered, electro-plated place, full of mirrors and
gas-fittings and white-clothed tables. It was not busy, the hour being
somewhat late and the day Saturday, and so against the walls, on either
side the long halls, were ranged sentinel rows of white-aproned,
white-capped, black-dressed waitresses.

They were dawdling over their tea--Ned and Nellie were, not the