JIM. Two. Both dead.

MRS. AUSTIN. Oh!

JIM. It ain't a pretty story, ma'am. It's a poor man's story.

MRS. AUSTIN. Tell it to me.

JIM. All right. It'll spoil your sleep for the rest of the night, I
guess, but you can have it. [A pause.] A year ago I was what they call
an honest working man. I had a home and a happy family; and I didn't
drink any too much, and I did well . . . even if the work was hard. I
was in the steel works here in town.

MRS. AUSTIN. [Startled.] The Empire Steel Company?

JIM. Yes. Why?

MRS. AUSTIN. Nothing . . . only I happen to know some people there. Go
on.

JIM. It's no child's work there, ma'am. There's an awful lot of
accidents . . . more than the world has any idea of. I've seen a man
sent to hell in the snapping of a finger. And they don't treat them
fair . . . they hush things up. There are things you wouldn't believe
if I told them to you.

MRS. AUSTIN. Tell them.