factory.

Mr. Cliffords was what the servants describe as "a man who keeps
himself to himself," gruff, harsh, straight and clever. He hated
all his girls and no one would have supposed, had they seen us
together, that he liked me; but, after I had observed him blocking
the light in the doorway of the room when I was speaking, I knew
that I should get on with him.

The first day I went into the barn of a place where the boxes were
made, I was greeted by a smell of glue and perspiration and a roar
of wheels on the cobblestones in the yard. Forty or fifty women,
varying in age from sixteen to sixty, were measuring, cutting and
glueing cardboard and paper together; not one of them looked up
from her work as I came in.

I climbed upon a hoarding, and kneeling down, pinned a photograph
of Laura on a space of the wall. This attracted the attention of
an elderly woman who turned to her companions and said:

"Come and have a look at this, girls! why, it's to the life!"

Seeing some of the girls leave their work and remembering my
promise to Cliffords, I jumped up and told them that in ten
minutes' time they would be having their dinners and then I would
like to speak to them, but that until then they must not stop
their work. I was much relieved to see them obey me. Some of them
kept sandwiches in dirty paper bags which they placed on the floor
with their hats, but when the ten minutes were over I was
disappointed to see nearly all of them disappear. I asked where