"So she writes silly things?"
"Stories! Not a word of truth in 'em, I vum! I read one of 'em once," declared Mr. Chumley. "Widder Morse wants to ape these well-to-do folks that live 'tother end o' Whiffle Street. Keeps her gal in high school when she'd ought to be in a store or a factory, earnin' her keep. She's big enough."
"Do you think that's a good way to bring up girls—letting them go to work so early in life?"
"Why not?" asked the old man, in wonder. "They kin work cheap and it helps trade. Too much schoolin' is bad for gals. They don't need it, anyway. And all the fal-lals and di-does they l'arn 'em in high school now doesn't amount to a row of pins in practical life. No, ma'am!"
"But do these Morses have such a hard time getting along?" asked Mrs. Prentice, trying to bring the gossipy old gentleman back to the main subject.
"They don't meet their bills prompt," snapped the landlord. "Now! here I was in the house to-night. I suggested that the gal pay the rent for December; it'll be due in a day or two. And she didn't have it. They're often late with it. I have to come two or three times before I get it, some months. And I hear they owe the tradesmen a good deal."
