A
moment later the girl emerged, smoothing back her hair with both hands.
She stepped immediately to the little kitchen.
"Thank you," said she. "That helps."
"It was old John," disclaimed Bob. "I'm ashamed to say I should never
have thought of it."
The girl nodded carelessly.
"Where did you learn stenography?" asked Bob.
"Oh, I got that out of a ten-cent magazine too." She sat on a bench,
looked up at the sky through the trees, and drew a deep breath.
"You're tired," said Bob.
"Not a bit," she denied. "But I don't often get a chance to just look
up."
"You seem to do the gardening, the cooking, the housework, the clerical
work--you don't do the laundry, too, do you?" demanded Bob ironically.
"You noticed those miserable khakis!" cried Amy with a gesture of
dismay. "Ashley," she called, "change those khakis before you go out,"
"Yes, mama," came back a mock childish voice.
"What's your salary?" demanded Bob bluntly, nodding toward the office.
"What?" she asked, as though puzzled.
"Didn't you say you were the clerk?"
"Oh, I see. I just help Ashley out. He could _never_ get through the
field work and the office work both.
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