"But she's the right kind," resumed Berlaps. "I only wish we had a
dozen like her."

"I wish we had. Her work will never rip."

Further conversation was prevented by the entrance of a customer.
Before he had been fully served, a middle-aged woman came in with a
large bundle, and went back to Berlaps's desk, where he stood
engaged over his account-books.

"Good-day, Mrs. Gaston," said he, looking up, while not a feature
relaxed on his cold, rigid countenance.

"I've brought you in six pairs of pants," said the woman, untying
the bundle she had laid upon the counter.

"You had seven pair, ma'am."

"I know that, Mr. Berlaps. But only six are finished; and, as I want
some money, I have brought them in."

"It is more than a week since we gave them out. You ought to have
had the whole seven pair done. We want them all now. They should
have been in day before yesterday."

"They would have been finished, Mr. Berlaps," said the woman, in a
deprecating tone; "but one of my children has been sick; and I have
had to be up with her so often every night, and have had to attend
to her so much through the day, that I have not been able to do more
than half work."