next morning Billy must be at the stable at his regular hour to
drive his team out.

All the women in the fancy starch room knew it was Saxon's last
day. Many exulted for her, and not a few were envious of her, in
that she had won a husband and to freedom from the suffocating
slavery of the ironing board. Much of bantering she endured; such
was the fate of every girl who married out of the fancy starch
room. But Saxon was too happy to be hurt by the teasing, a great
deal of which was gross, but all of which was good-natured.

In the steam that arose from under her iron, and on the surfaces
of the dainty lawns and muslins that flew under her hands, she
kept visioning herself in the Pine Street cottage; and steadily
she hummed under her breath her paraphrase of the latest popular
song:

"And when I work, and when I work,
I'll always work for Billy."

By three in the afternoon the strain of the piece-workers in the
humid, heated room grew tense. Elderly women gasped and sighed;
the color went out of the cheeks of the young women, their faces
became drawn and dark circles formed under their eyes; but all
held on with weary, unabated speed. The tireless, vigilant
forewoman kept a sharp lookout for incipient hysteria, and once
led a narrow-chested, stoop-shouldered young thing out of the
place in time to prevent a collapse.

Saxon was startled by the wildest scream of terror she had ever