“It is for the working girls, especially the lower class of working girls, who are in the factories.  For instance, the candy factory girls.  I am especially interested in that as father owns the candy factory—­it is a pet side issue of his.  You can see it from here, across the river there on the little neck of land.  You see?  The girls are just beginning to come from work now.”

The three girls looked across the river, where groups of other girls were quitting a large building.  They could be seen but dimly, but even at that distance something in the prevalent droop suggested that they, too, had found the day “distressingly warm.”

“I hadn’t realized,” said Katie, “that making candy was such serious business.”

“It couldn’t have been very pleasant today,” their guest granted, “but I believe it is regarded a very good place to work.”

The book Katie had been reading the night before had shown her the value of facts when it came to judging places where women worked, and she was moved to the blunt inquiry:  “How much do those girls make?”

“About six dollars a week, I believe,” Miss Osborne replied.

Katie watched them:  the long dim line of girls engaged in preparation of the sweets of life.  She was wondering what she would have thought it worth to go over there and work all day.  “Then each of those girls made a dollar today?” she asked, and her inflection was curious.

“Well—­no,” Miss Osborne confessed.  “The experienced and the skillful made a dollar.”

“And how much,” pressed Katie, “did the least experienced and skillful make?”

“Fifty cents, I believe,” replied Miss Osborne, seeming to have less enthusiasm when the scientific method was employed.

There was a jarring sound.  The girl “sitting apart” had pushed her chair still farther back.  “You call that a good place to work?” She addressed it to Miss Osborne in voice that scraped as the chair had scraped.

“Why yes, as places go, I believe so.  Though that is why I am giving the garden party.  They do need more pleasure in their lives.  It is one of the under-lying principles of life—­is it not?—­that all must have their pleasures.”

Ann laughed recklessly.  Miss Osborne looked puzzled; Katie worried.

“And we are organizing this working girl’s club.  We think we can do a great deal through that.”

“Oh yes, help them get higher wages, I suppose?” Katie asked innocently.

“N—­o; that would scarcely be possible.  But help them to get on better with what they have.  Help them learn to manage better.”

Again Ann laughed, not only recklessly but rudely.  “That is surely a splendid thing,” she said, and the voice which said it was high-pitched and unsteady, “helping a girl to ‘manage better’ on fifty cents a day!”

“You do not approve of these things?” Miss Osborne asked coldly.

And with all the heat Katie felt herself growing suddenly cold as she heard Ann replying:  “Oh, if they help you—­pass the time, I don’t suppose they do any harm.”