Isn't it queer how busy
men and women have to be day after day, and year after year, just
getting themselves and others something to eat? Do you have other people
to help get it for? Mother, for instance, and little brothers and
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.
Pages:
135
136
137
138
139
140
141
142
143
144
145
146
147
148
149
150
151
152
153
154
155
156
157
158
159