"These kind of doings will never answer, madam!" he said angrily. "I
could have sold both jackets ten times over, if they'd been here
three days ago, as by rights they ought to have been. I can't give
you work, if you are not, more punctual. You needn't think to get
along at our tack, unless you plug it in a little faster than all
this comes to."

"I'll try and do better after this," said Mrs. Gaston, faintly.

"You'll have to, let me tell you, or we'll cry 'quits.' All my women
must have nimble fingers."

"These jackets are not much to brag of," broke in Michael, as he
tossed them aside. "I think we had better not trust her with any
more cloth roundabouts. She has botched the button-holes awfully;
and the jackets are not more than half pressed. Just look how she
has held on the back seam of this one, and drawn the edges of the
lappels until they set seven ways for Sunday! They're murdered
outright, and ought to be hung, with a basin under them to catch the
blood."

"What was she to have for them?" asked Berlaps.

"Thirty cents a-piece, I believe," replied the salesman.

"Don't give her but a quarter, then. I'm not going to pay full price
to have my work botched up after that style!" And, so saying,
Berlaps turned away and walked back to his desk.