She came into the cigar store a few days later, beaming, happy. “I’ve got a job, kid, at the Comique jerking beer. Not so good, but better than Miss Kate’s. It will do till I get a better one. Come down and watch me work.”

The Comique was an old-time collar-and-elbow variety show long since supplanted by the modern vaudeville show house. A dozen girls sold drinks to the patrons on commission. A girl could live on her commissions, but few of them did. I think Julia managed to do it. I went down to see her and found her bouncing with energy.

“I’ve made three dollars already tonight, kid, and it’s all mine.”

I waited till she was ready to go home, and walked with her. She had cleaned up the room till it looked halfway decent. “You don’t have to go; the place is as much yours as mine,” she said when I was leaving. I didn’t think about her being a girl; I went home because it was my habit. If she had been a boy I would have done the same.