“I went once to see a preacher, and ask him to get us somethin’ to do,” said Sally. “It wasn’t long after we come to town, and before we’d begun sewin’ on Sunday, so I went Sunday afternoon. He was a real nice man, always shook hands with both hands, and had an awful affectionate manner, and I thought he’d be the very one to help us. Well, he said he was sorry we were so bad off, though he guessed there was others worse off than us; for that was before our good clo’es wore out, and I looked pretty nice. Then he told me how many people in his congregation were in want of somethin’ to do; and said we ought to be thankful for any kind of a job, no matter how little it paid.” “Well, I don’t know about that,” said Susan. “I _do_,” cried Polly impetuously. “A job that takes all your time to earn enough to keep from starving is just robbery and slavery, that’s all.” Aunt Sally assented gravely. “If you leave your work to look for another job, you are sure to starve before you find one,” she said, “and you might as well be chained to a oar, like those people in the ancient history. Fact is, we was worse off than galley-slaves, Sue; for ’twas the captain’s interest to keep _them_ alive.” “But it’s nobody’s interest to keep sewing women alive,” said Polly bitterly; “there’s plenty to take our places, if we drop. The labor market is overstocked, they say.” “That’s what my preacher said,” replied Sally; “and all the comfort he had for me was that, if I did my duty, and came to church reg’lar, I’d git to heaven finally. I thanked him for his good advice, but I ain’t been to his church since.” “Mr. Metzerott don’t believe in heaven,” said Polly, “maybe that’s why he’s so kind to us here on earth.” “I believe in heaven,” said Susan slowly. “You ain’t quite a born fool, Susan Price, that’s why. Of course the good Lord is goin’ to fix things so the poor will have a fair show somewhere. But we ain’t the good Lord, so far’s I know; and it’s our place to keep things fair and right on this earth, so far’s we can.” “And that ain’t far,” said Susan. “It’s as far as Mr. Metzerott, anyhow,” returned Sally rather sharply, “and we ain’t got no call to go no further, yit. And what I’m thinking about is his baker’s bill.” The Prices were alive and awake again, no doubt about it; as for Polly, she had never been asleep. Her strong, vivid, ardent nature, craving happiness with every fibre, could never, I think, have sunk into that tired and hopeless acquiescence in things as they ought not to be, that inanition of mind, heart, and soul, which had long ago devoured the youth and vitality of the sisters. And yet the vitality, after all, had not utterly departed, and the feeble currents in their veins stirred in sympathy with the young life beating its wings against the bars of poverty, and tugging so vainly at the chain of starvation wages. Then came rescue and hope, and the awakening was complete.