At fifteen she entered the high-school and had a master.
Andrew was growing old fast in those days, though not so old as to years.

Though he was far from old, his hair was gray, his back bent.
He moved with a weary shuffle.

The men in the shop began to eye him furtively.

"Andrew Brewster will get fired next," they said.

"The boss 'ain't no use for men with the first snap gone." Indeed, Andrew was constantly given jobs of lower grades, which did not pay so well.