"Go avay! Get out," he cried, jumping up. "To-morrow I vill start with new hands. I'll never take none of the old ones back." Mabel smiled at him undismayed. "Scabs," she said, "will break your machines. It will be cheaper to keep shut than to work with greenhorns." Jake knew that this was only too true. But he thought that a bold attitude might scare his old employees into coming back. "You tink so? Vell. I'll show you. Get out!" It was getting towards closing time, so Mabel and Yetta, with arms full of the afternoon's _Forwaertz_, stationed themselves before one of the big vest shops and handed out copies to every one who would take one, talked to all who would listen. They had supper in an East Side restaurant and then went out again to call on some vest-makers whose addresses they knew. Once, as they were hurrying along the street, Yetta suddenly stopped. "I forgot," she said. "I've got to go to my aunt's and get some things." "That's so," Mabel said. "They must be worrying about you. You tell them you are going to live with me for a while." "No," Yetta said. "It don't matter what I tell them; they'll think I've gone wrong. But there are some things I want to get before they sell them." They were not very far from her doorway, and when they got there, Mabel asked if she should come up. "No," Yetta said, "you wait. It won't take me a minute." She did not want her new friend to see the place where she had lived. Her uncle might be at home and drunk. But when she reached the door of the Goldstein flat, her heart suddenly failed her. Perhaps he was home, perhaps he would curse her the way he had Rachel, perhaps he would strike her. If it had been only her few clothes, the new hat and the white shoes, she would have slunk downstairs afraid. But there were the three volumes of _Les Miserables_. So she went in. Only her aunt and her cousin Rosa were in the room. "I've come to get my things," she said, not wishing to give them time to formulate any accusations. "There's a strike in my shop. I won't be earning any money now for a while, so you wouldn't want me here. I'm going to live with a friend." She went into the bedroom and began wrapping up the books and shoes in her extra shirt-waist and skirt. Rosa stood in the doorway and watched her. "Who's your friend?" she asked. "Her name's Miss Train." "Oh. It's a woman, is it?" Rosa sneered. Yetta flushed angrily but held her tongue, and when she had gathered together her meagre belongings, she looked once more about the dismal bedroom and came out into the kitchen where Mrs. Goldstein was sitting in silence, sewing away at a frayed underskirt of Rosa's. A sudden tenderness came to Yetta for this hard old woman who had mistreated her. "Good-by, Aunt Martha," she said. For a moment she stitched on without apparently noticing her niece's presence. And then she spoke to Rosa. "It isn't so bad," she said, "as when Rachel went. She was my own daughter."