"
Patsy's heart was beating fast.
"Do you mean I'm discharged?" she asked, with a catch in her voice.
"That's it precisely."
"Have I done anything wrong, Madam?"
"It isn't that," said Madam, pettishly. "I simply do not require your
services. You are paid up to Saturday night, and I owe you nothing.
Now, run along."
Patsy stood looking at her and wondering what to do. To lose this
place was certainly a great calamity.
"You'll give me a testimonial, won't you, Madam?" she asked,
falteringly.
"I don't give testimonials," was the reply.
"Do run away, child; I'm very busy this morning."
Patsy went away, all her happiness turned to bitter grief. What would
the Major say, and what were they to do without her wages? Then she
remembered Willing Square, and was a little comforted. Money was not
as necessary now as it had been before.
Nevertheless, she applied to one or two hair-dressers for employment,
and met with abrupt refusals. They had all the help they needed. So
she decided to go back home and think it over, before taking further
action.
It was nearly ten o'clock when she fitted her pass-key into the carved
door of Apartment D, and when she entered the pretty living-room she
found an elderly lady seated there, who arose to greet her.
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