fact directness, and without the least illusion of distance or romance.
The rough, unplaned, unpainted walls of the dinner-shed stood out
clearly before him; the half-filled buckets of water on the near
platform, and the immense tubs piled with dirty dishes. He scowled
darkly as he walked forward, conscious, nevertheless, of the
invigorating discipline of the morning air and the wholesome whip in the
sky above him. He entered sharply and aggressively. To his relief, the
room at first sight seemed, like the dormitory he had just left, to be
empty. But a voice, clear, dry, direct, and practical as the morning
itself, spoke in his ear: "Mornin', Reddy! My daughter says you're
willin' to take an indoor job, and I reckon, speakin' square, as man
to man, it's more in your line than what you've bin doin'. It mayn't
be high-toned work, but work's WORK anyhow you can fix it; and the only
difference I kin see is in the work that a man does squarely, and the
work that he shirks."

"But," said Reddy hurriedly, "there's a mistake. I came here only to"--

"Work like the others, I understand. Well, you see you CAN'T. You do
your best, I know. I ain't findin' fault, but it ain't in your line.
THIS is, and the pay is better."

"But," stammered Reddy, "Miss Woodridge didn't understand"--

"Yes, she did," returned Woodridge impatiently, "and she told me. She
says she'll show you round at first. You'll catch on all right. Sit down
and eat your breakfast, and she'll be along before you're through.
Ez for ME, I must get up and get. So long!" and before Reddy had an
opportunity to continue his protest, he turned away.