Спрут: Каліфорнійська історія
Chapter VIII
Theladyofthehouseherself,anelderlylady,withpleasant,kindlyface,openedthedoor.Minnastatedhererrand.
“ButIhavealreadyengagedagirl,”shesaid.
“Oh,”murmuredMinna,strivingwithallhermighttomaintainappearances.“Oh—Ithoughtperhaps—”Sheturnedaway.
“I’msorry,”saidthelady.Thensheadded,“Wouldyoucaretolookaftersomanyasthreelittlechildren,andhelparoundinlighthouseworkbetweenwhiles?”
“Yes,ma’am.”“Becausemysister—shelivesinNorthBerkeley,abovehere—she’slookingfaragirl.Haveyouhadlotsofexperience?Gotgoodreferences?”
“Yes,ma’am.”
“Well,I’llgiveyoutheaddress.ShelivesupinNorthBerkeley.”
Sheturnedbackintothehouseamoment,andreturned,handingMinnaacard.
“That’swhereshelives—carefulnottoBLOTit,child,theink’swetyet—youhadbetterseeher.”
“Isitfar?CouldIwalkthere?”
“My,no;youbettertaketheelectriccars,aboutsixblocksabovehere.”
WhenMinnaarrivedinNorthBerkeley,shehadnomoneyleft.Byacruelmistake,shehadtakenacargoinginthewrongdirection,andthoughhererrorwasrectifiedeasilyenough,ithadcostherherlastfive-centpiece.Shewasnowtotryherlasthope.Promptlyitcrumbledaway.Liketheformer,thisplacehadbeenalreadyfilled,andMinnaleftthedoorofthehousewiththecertaintythatherchancehadcometonaught,andthatnowsheenteredintothelaststrugglewithlife—thedeathstruggle—shornofherlastpitifuldefence,herlastsafeguard,herlastpenny.
