Nor would she even try to make
an estimate.
"But I must know," said Hamilton, in despair. "See for yourself,--here
it says that every factory must state the total cost of all material
used during the year and the value of the products."
"Factory!" the milliner jumped to her feet. "What you say--a factory!
Zis establishment a factory! And me, one of ze designers of ze great
Maison Chic in Paris! Zis is insult!"
For a moment Hamilton was amazed at the tempest he had so suddenly
evoked; then he tried to pacify the woman.
"That's just a general word," he said, "and it is used for every place
where things are made."
"No, no, no," she cried, "I know bezzer zan zat. A factory has chimney,
high, high, and smoke, an' nasty smells, an' machines. I have seen zem!"
"That's one kind of factory," answered the boy, "but it is only one
kind. But if you like we won't use the word at all."
This time, however, Hamilton's persuasions were of no avail. The
milliner had taken offense at the word "factory," and not another word
could the boy get out of her on any subject; the deadlock had become
absolute when the door opened and the maid showed in a young girl,
evidently a customer.
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