"Oh, can he play?" I made no apology for the interruption. The
child was undersized and illy-nourished, and to let him work ten
hours a day seemed a crime for which I, and all others who cared for
children, were somehow responsible. But if he had a chance to play--

"When old Miss High-Spy goes out the room we play." Jimmy gave his
trousers a jerk and made effort to force connection between a button
and a buttonhole belonging respectively to his upper and his lower
garments. "She's a regular old tale-teller, but soon as she's out
the room we get down from our bench and rush around and tag each
other. Our benches 'ain't got no backs to 'em, and if we didn't get
off sometimes we couldn't sit up all day. The other fellows, the big
ones, don't tell on us. They make us put the windows down from the
top when she's out."

"Do you mean you don't have any air in the room?" My voice was
unbelieving, and at something in my face Jimmy laughed.

"Not when we're working. The wind might blow the little pieces of
paper off the table and we'd lose time getting 'em, she says. Some
the boys get so sick from the heat and the glue smell they heave up
their breakfast and can't eat nothing all day. I 'ain't fainted but
twice since I been there, but Alex Hobbs keels over once a week,
anyhow. Used to frighten me at first when I saw him getting green-y,
but I don't mind it now."

With a quick turn of his head Jimmy looked at a small clock on the
shelf above the wash-tubs, and got up with even quicker movement. "I
forgot about the wood, and the papers will be ready 'fore I can get