Marion Marlowe's Christmas Eve, or, The Treachery of a Factory Inspector — page 11: what you’re looking at

Machine-transcribed from the original scan — historical spelling and the odd misread are preserved.

— "+ - MY QUEEN. stick to my Work until I have accomplished a little, at least, in that direction.” She looked straight at Miss French as she spoke, and the woman’s face flushed crimson. It was the first intimation that she had re- ceived that the young girl had been watching her, and, she was uncertain whether or not she was mistaken in the glance—it might be that it was only her even now, euilty conscience accusing her. “What evil in particular do you refer to, miss?” asked the woman, sharply, trying, at the same time, to show thorough indifference to the subject. | Marion’s full lips curved in a peculiar = smile. “Excuse me from answering your ques- ~“You might be tempted to remind me again that I was not tion,” she said, quietly. a regular inspector—so I shall make my re- port to Dr. Brookes only.” Mr. Landale: glanced from one to the other, and Miss French bit her lips with great vexation. It was time for Marion to go, and she knew _ it. 4 Another minute would bring an outburst from the woman. With a pleasant smile, she bade them both good-aiternoon, but, just as she reached the door, Miss French snapped out at her: “There are lots of things that you don’t understand in this business, Miss Marlowe 79. “Oh, but I am learning,” laughed the young girl, breaking her off very suddenly. “And why should I not learn, my dear Miss French? Why, another day in your company and I shall be almost ready to graduate.” She closed the door with a merry laugh, leaving Mr. Landale staring and Miss French purple with anger. | “Now she'll try to influence him against me,” she whispered to herself. “I suppose I was very foolish to make an enemy of her.” o CHAPTER V. AN INSULT RESENZED. After Marion left Mr. Landale’s office she walked slowly along the narrow streets, her whole frame trembling from excitement and weariness. It had been a dreadful day, and after her past few weeks of gayety and idleness the contrast appeared to her even more striking and cruel. In the country whence she came no such absolute slavery existed, nor was there ever to be found quite such an extreme of poverty. Of course, a life on the farm or in the farmhouse kitchen was one of drudgery and monotony, but it was infinitely better than what she had just seen, for there were snow- covered fields and pure air and sunlight, while these poor wretches in the sweat shops saw nothing of these beauties. “Oh, if only the rich would come down here!’ she sighed, as she stood on a street ‘corner and gazed upon the squalor about her. Then she tried to think of some way in which she could interest her wealthy ac- quaintances in this work, but at every point in her thoughts she was confronted by ob- stacles. The squalor and misery upon which she looked so fearlessly would shock such young women as Maude Rushlyn and Kittie Glen- ham, two society girls she knew; and as for the matrons whom she had met, they would scoff at the idea—they preferred to limit their charities to donations to rich churches or an aiternoon at some fasionable “sewing bee,” where they could listen to an expensive or- chestra and sip tea or chocolate. “Of course, Miss Allyn would help me, or Bert Jackson,” sighed Marion aloud, as she thought of her two best friends in the citv. “They are both glad and ready to aid in all good works, but just now dear Alma is out of town, while Bert is traveling with his adopted father No; it is left for Dr. COMmMiCcoooks.€O