punching, with sharp, snapping clicks, cutting circular bits of
leather out of the side of the upper, leaving the holes which
were to hold the laces. After observing a few times, the girl
let her work at it alone. Seeing that it was fairly well done,
she went away.

The pieces of leather came from the girl at the machine to her
right, and were passed on to the girl at her left. Carrie saw at
once that an average speed was necessary or the work would pile
up on her and all those below would be delayed. She had no time
to look about, and bent anxiously to her task. The girls at her
left and right realised her predicament and feelings, and, in a
way, tried to aid her, as much as they dared, by working slower.

At this task she laboured incessantly for some time, finding
relief from her own nervous fears and imaginings in the humdrum,
mechanical movement of the machine. She felt, as the minutes
passed, that the room was not very light. It had a thick odour
of fresh leather, but that did not worry her. She felt the eyes
of the other help upon her, and troubled lest she was not working
fast enough.

Once, when she was fumbling at the little clamp, having made a
slight error in setting in the leather, a great hand appeared
before her eyes and fastened the clamp for her. It was the
foreman. Her heart thumped so that she could scarcely see to go
on.

"Start your machine," he said, "start your machine. Don't keep
the line waiting."