we're getting
older or are too tired to care--why, then we have to go; poor,
worn-out machines--fit for the junk shop, not for a department store!
Even here, in Mantles, where we get a commission, the weak ones go to
the wall. We must be like wolves to make anything we can save for a
rainy day. But any girl or man who'll consent to act the spy on
others--_there's_ a way to earn money, lots of it. A few are tempted.
They must degenerate more and more, I think! And there are other
things that drive some of us--the women, I mean--to desperation. But I
can't tell you about them. You must find out for yourself--if you
care."

"If I care!" echoed Peter.

"If you do, why haven't you found out all these things, and more, long
ago?" she almost taunted him, carried away once again by the thought
of those she championed--the "friends" she had not come to in her
story yet.

"Because--my father made it a point that I should keep my hands off
the Hands. That was the way he put it. I must justify myself far
enough to tell you that."

"But--if one's in earnest, need one take no for an answer?"

"I suppose I wasn't in earnest enough. I thought I was. But I couldn't
have been. You're making me see that now."

"I haven't told you half!"

"Then--go on."

"You really wish it?"

"Yes."

"The floorwalkers and others above them have power that gives them the
chance to be horribly unjust and tyrannical if they like. There are
lots of fine ones. But there are cruel and bad ones, too. And then--I
can't tell you what life is like for the under dog! And cheating goes
on that we all see and have to share in--sales of worthless things
advertised to attract women. We get a premium for working off 'dead
stock.' Each department must be made to pay, separately and on its own
account, you see, whatever happens! And that's why each one is its own
sweatshop---"

"I swear to you this isn't my father's fault," involuntarily Peter
broke in. "He's not young any more, you see, and he worked so hard in
his early years that he's not strong enough to keep at it now. Not
since I can remember has he been able to take a personal interest in
the store, except from a distance. He leaves it to others, men he
believes that he can trust. Not coming here himself, he---"

"Why, he comes nearly every day!" Win cried out, then stopped
suddenly at sight of Peter's face.

"I--am sure you're mistaken about that one thing, Miss Child," he
said. "You must have