Her mother's reply
evidently did not carry conviction to Cora's questioning mind, for a
second later she was up and at it afresh.
"Say, now, listen, mother--if you do stenography an' typewritin', what
makes your apron so wet an' dirty, nights when you come home?"
"Don't you s'pose I clean my machine before I leave? What kinder
typewriter d'you think I am? To leave my machine dirty, when a good
scrub-down, with a pail o' hot water, an' a stiff brush, an' Sapolio,
would put it in fine shape for the next mornin'."
"Mother--say, now, listen! I don't _believe_ that's the way they clean
typewriters. Miss Symonds, she's the Principal's seckerterry to our
school, an' she sits in the office, she cleans her machine with oil and
a little fine brush, like you clean your teeth with."
"What you been doin' in the Principal's office, miss, I should like to
know? Been sent up to her for bad behavior, or not knowin' your lessons?
Speak up now! Quick!"
"My teacher, she sends me on errands, an' I got a credit-card last week
an', say, mother, I don't _believe_ you're a young lady stenographer an'
typewriter.
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