"Joe! Joe!" she murmured. "It's you driving me on--it's you! Here goes!" It was in some ways a desperate undertaking. Once, in Newark, a rough of an employer had almost thrown her down the stairs, man-handling her, and while Marrin or his men would not do this, yet what method could she use to brave the two hundred and fifty people in the loft? She was quite alone, quite without any weapon save her tongue. To fail would be ridiculous and ignominious. Yet Sally was quite calm; her heart did not seem to miss a beat; her brain was not confused by a rush of blood. She knew what she was doing. She climbed that first flight of semi-circular stairs without hindrance, secretly hoping that by no mischance either Marrin or one of his sub-bosses might emerge. There was a door at the first landing. She passed it quickly and started up the second flight. Then there was a turning of a knob, a rustling of skirts, and a voice came sharp: "Where are you going?" Sally turned. The forelady stood below her--large, eagle-eyed woman, with square and wrinkled face, quite a mustache on her upper lip. Sally spoke easily. "Up-stairs." "For what?" "To see one of the girls. Her mother's sick." The forelady eyed Sally suspiciously. "Did you get a permit from the office?" Sally seemed surprised. "Permit? No! Do you have to get a permit?" The forelady spoke roughly. "You get a permit, or you don't go up." "Where's the office?" "In here." "Thanks for telling me!" Sally came down, and, as she entered the doorway, the forelady proceeded up-stairs. Sally delayed a second, until the forelady disappeared around the bend, and then quickly, quietly she followed, taking the steps two at a time. The forelady had hardly entered the doorway on the next landing when Sally was in with her, and treading softly in her footsteps. This was the loft, vast, lit by windows east and west, and hung, this snow-darkened morning, with many glittering lights. Through all the space girls and women, close together, bent over power-machines which seemed to race at intolerable speed. There was such a din and clatter, such a whizzing, thumping racket, that voices or steps would well be lost. Then suddenly, in the very center of the place, the forelady, stopping to speak to a girl, while all the girls of the neighborhood ceased work to listen, thus producing a space of calm--the forelady, slightly turning and bending, spied Sally. She came up indignantly. "Why did you follow me? Go down to the office!" Many more machines stopped, many more pale faces lifted and watched. Sally gave a quick glance around, and was a trifle upset by seeing Mr. Marrin coming straight toward her. He came with his easy, tripping stride, self-satisfied, red-faced, tastefully dressed, an orchid in his buttonhole. Sally spoke quickly. "I was only looking for Mr. Marrin, and here he is!" As Mr. Marrin came up, more and more machines stopped, as if by contagion, and the place grew strangely hushed.