The money that Zerkow paid her, Maria spent on shirt waists and dotted blue neckties, trying to dress like the girls who tended the soda-water fountain in the candy store on the corner.

She was sick with envy of these young women.
They were in the world, they were elegant, they were debonair, they had their "young men." On this occasion she presented herself at the door of Old Grannis's room late in the afternoon.

His door stood a little open.

That of Miss Baker was ajar a few inches.

The two old people were "keeping company" after their fashion.
"Got any junk, Mister Grannis ?" inquired Maria, standing in the door, a very dirty, half-filled pillowcase over one arm.
"No, nothing--nothing that I can think of, Maria," replied Old Grannis, terribly vexed at the interruption, yet not wishing to be unkind.
"Nothing I think of.