sisters?"

"I've got a mother," he said, "and a sister."

"And that makes work easier, does it not? I always thought it would be
stupid to work all the time just for one's self. But I meant, What do
you work at in order to get the something to eat,--there are so many
different ways?"

"How do you know I work at all?"

Dirk's voice was growing sullen; a consciousness that he would appear at
a disadvantage in admitting himself an idler in a busy world was dawning
upon him as an entirely new idea. At his question, Gracie turned on her
music-stool and regarded him with surprise.

"Why, of course you work," she said; "people all do."

She was not acting a part. Her experience among poor people was limited
to that outwardly respectable class who, however disreputable their
conduct might be on Sabbath, had, nevertheless a Monday occupation with
which they pretended to earn a living.

Dirk shrugged his shoulders again.

"Do they?" he said.

Her evident ignorance of the world made him good-natured. She was not
trying to preach to him, he decided. A thing which Dirk hated, in common
with all persons of his class.