Saturday's Child 
 
The Project Gutenberg Etext of Saturday's Child, by Kathleen Norris 
#6 in our series by Kathleen Norris 
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Title: Saturday's Child 
Author: Kathleen Norris 
Release Date: November, 2003 [Etext #4687] [Yes, we are more than 
one year ahead of schedule] [This file was first posted on March 2, 
2002] 
Edition: 10 
Language: English 
Character set encoding: ASCII 
The Project Gutenberg Etext of Saturday's Child, by Kathleen Norris 
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THE WORKS OF KATHLEEN NORRIS 
SATURDAY'S CHILD 
VOLUME IV 
 
"Friday's child is loving and giving; But Saturday's child must work for 
her living." 
 
To C. G. N. 
How shall I give you this, who long have known Your gift of all the 
best of life to me? No living word of mine could ever be Without the 
stirring echo of your own. Under your hand, as mine, this book has 
grown, And you, whose faith sets all my musing free, You, whose true 
vision helps my eyes to see, Know that these pages are not mine alone.
Not mine to give, not yours, the happy days, The happy talks, the 
hoping and the fears That made this story of a happy life. But, in dear 
memory of your words of praise, And grateful memory of four busy 
years, Accept her portion of it, from your wife. 
 
PART ONE 
Poverty 
 
SATURDAY'S CHILD
 
CHAPTER I 
Not the place in which to look for the Great Adventure, the dingy, 
narrow office on the mezzanine floor of Hunter, Baxter & Hunter's 
great wholesale drug establishment, in San Francisco city, at the 
beginning of the present century. Nothing could have seemed more 
monotonous, more grimy, less interesting, to the outsider's eye at least, 
than life as it presented itself to the twelve women who were employed 
in bookkeeping there. Yet, being young, as they all were, each of these 
girls was an adventuress, in a quiet way, and each one dreamed bright 
dreams in the dreary place, and waited, as youth must wait, for fortune, 
or fame, or position, love or power, to evolve itself somehow from the 
dulness of her days, and give her the key that should open--and 
shut--the doors of Hunter, Baxter & Hunter's offices to her forever. 
And, while they waited, working over the unvaried, stupid columns of 
the company's books, they talked, confided, became friends, and 
exchanged shy hints of ambition. The ill-ventilated, neglected room 
was a little world, and rarely, in a larger world, do women come to 
know each other as intimately as these women did. 
Therefore, on a certain sober September morning, the fact that Miss 
Thornton, familiarly known as "Thorny," was out of temper, speedily 
became known to all the little force. Miss Thornton was not only the 
oldest clerk there, but she was the highest paid, and the longest in the 
company's employ; also she was by    
    
		
	
	
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