Saturday’s Child Book PDF Download

benches built
about it. A door gave upon a high strip of flat roof, and beyond a
pebbled stretch of tar were the dressings-rooms, where there were
wash-stands, and soap, and limp towels on rollers.

Here Susan would wash her hands and face, and comb her bright thick
hair, and straighten belt and collar. There were always girls here:
a late-comer eating her luncheon, two chatter-boxes sharing a bit of
powdered chamois-skin at a mirror, a girl who felt ill drinking
something hot at the stove. Here was always company, and gossip,
Susan might stop for a half-cup of scalding hot tea, or a chocolate
from a striped paper bag. Returning, refreshed and cheered, to the
office, she would lay a warm, damp hand over Miss Thornton’s, and
give her the news.

“Miss Polk and Miss French are just going it up there, Thorny, mad
as hops!” or “Miss O’Brien is going to be in Mr. Joe Hunter’s office
after this.”

“‘S’at so?” Miss Thornton would interestedly return, wrinkling her
nose under the glasses she used while she was