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Support the Monkey! Tell All your Friends and Teachers |
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Support the Monkey! Tell All your Friends and Teachers |
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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." This recovered her sufficiently and she went excitedly on, hardly breathing until the shadow moved away from behind her. Then she heaved a great breath. As the morning wore on the room became hotter. She felt the need of a breath of fresh air and a drink of water, but did not venture to stir. The stool she sat on was without a back or foot-rest, and she began to feel uncomfortable. She found, after a time, that her back was beginning to ache. She twisted and turned from one position to another slightly different, but it did not case her for long. She was beginning to weary. "Stand up, why don’t you?" said the girl at her right, without any form of introduction. "They won’t care." Carrie looked at her gratefully. "I guess I will," she said. She stood up from her stool and worked that way for a while, but it was a more difficult position. Her neck and shoulders ached in bending over. The spirit of the place impressed itself on her in a rough way. She did not venture to look around, but above the clack of the machine she could hear an occasional remark. She could also note a thing or two out of the side of her eye. "Did you see Harry last night?" said the girl at her left, addressing her neighbour. "No." "You ought to have seen the tie he had on. Gee, but he was a mark." "S-s-t," said the other girl, bending over her work. The first, silenced, instantly assumed a solemn face. The foreman passed slowly along, eyeing each worker distinctly. The moment he was gone, the conversation was resumed again. "Say," began the girl at her left, "what jeh think he said?" "I don’t know." "He said he saw us with Eddie Harris at Martin’s last night." "No!" They both giggled. A youth with tan-coloured hair, that needed clipping very badly, came shuffling along between the machines, bearing a basket of leather findings under his left arm, and pressed against his stomach. When near Carrie, he stretched out his right hand and gripped one girl under the arm. "Aw, let me go," she exclaimed angrily. "Duffer." He only grinned broadly in return. "Rubber!" he called back as she looked after him. There was nothing of the gallant in him. |
