"Here, Dee Dee, I'm so nervous when I hurry. You sew in this ruche; you
got time before the supper-bell. See, right along the edge like that."
Miss Worte aimed for the eye of the needle, moistening the end of the
thread with her tongue and her fluttering fingers close to her eyes.
"God! I--I just 'ain't got the eyes no more. I can't see, Sadie; I can't
find the needle."
Sadie Barnet paused in the act of brushing out the cloud of her dark
hair, and with a strong young gesture ran the thread through the needle,
knotting its end with a quirk of thumb and forefinger.
"It's the drops, Dee Dee, and this gaslight, all blurry from the
curling-iron in the flame, makes you see bad."
Miss Worte nodded and closed her eyes as if she would press back the
tears and let them drip inward.
"Yeh, I know. I know."
"Sure! Here, lemme do it, Dee Dee. I won't stay out late, dearie, if
your eyes are bad. We're only going out for a little spin."
Miss Worte lay back on the chintz bedspread and turned her face to the
wall.
"I should worry if you come home or if you don't--all the comfort you
are to me."
"You say that to me many more times and you watch and see what I do; you
watch and see.
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