sent to report to the head forewoman.

"We thought you'd quit," she says. "Lots of girls come in here and quit
after one day, especially Saturday. To-day is scrubbing day," she smiles
at me. "Now we'll do right by you if you do right by us. What did the
timekeeper say he'd give you?"

"Sixty or seventy a day."

"We'll give you seventy," she says. "Of course, we can judge girls a
good deal by their looks, and we can see that you're above the average."

She wears her cap close against her head. Her front hair is rolled up in
crimping-pins. She has false teeth and is a widow. Her pale, parched
face shows what a great share of life has been taken by daily
over-effort repeated during years. As she talks she touches my arm in a
kindly fashion and looks at me with blue eyes that float about under
weary lids. "You are only at the beginning," they seem to say. "Your
youth and vigour are at full tide, but drop by drop they will be sapped
from you, to swell the great flood of human effort that supplies the
world's material needs. You will gain in experience," the weary lids
flutter at me, "but you will pay _with your life_ the living you make."

There is no variety in my morning's work. Next to me is a bright, pretty
girl jamming chopped pickles into bottles.

"How long have you been here?" I ask, attracted by her capable
appearance. She does her work easily and well.

"About five months."