"I never spoke two words to him before the day I applied for work," Ellen replied, haughtily. She was beginning to feel that perhaps the worst feature of her going to work in a factory would be this girl. "I've known girls who would be willing to go down on their knees and tie his shoes when they hadn't seen more of him than that," said the girl. "Ed Flynn is an awful masher." Ellen went on with her work. The girl, after a side glance at her, went on with hers. Gradually Ellen's work began to seem mechanical. At first she had felt as if she were tying all her problems of life in square knots. She had to use all her brain upon it; after a while her brain had so informed her fingers that they had learned their lesson well enough to leave her free to think, if only the girl at her side would let her alone. The girl had a certain harsh beauty, coarsely curling red hair, a great mass of it, gathered in an untidy knot, and a brilliant complexion. Her hands were large and red. Ellen's contrasted with them looked like a baby's. "You 'ain't got hands for workin' in a shoe-shop," said Mamie Brady, presently, and it was impossible to tell from her tone whether she envied or admired Ellen's hands, or was proud of the superior strength of her own. "Well, they've got to work in a shoe-shop," said Ellen, with a short laugh. "You won't find it so easy to work with such little mites of hands when it comes to some things," said the girl. It began to be clear that she exulted in her large, coarse hands as being fitted for her work. "Maybe mine will grow larger," said Ellen. "No, they won't. They'll grow all bony and knotty, but they won't grow any bigger." "Well, I shall have to get along with them the best way I can," replied Ellen, rather impatiently. This girl was irritating to a degree, and yet there was all the time that vague dejection about her, and withal a certain childishness, which seemed to insist upon patience. The girl was really older than Ellen, but she was curiously unformed. Some of the other girls said openly that she was "lacking." "You act stuck up. Are you stuck up?" asked Mamie Brady, suddenly, after another pause. Ellen laughed in spite of herself. "No," said she, "I am not. I know of no reason that I have for being stuck up." "Well, I don't know of any either," said the other girl, "but I didn't know. You sort of acted as if you felt stuck up." "Well, I don't." "You talk stuck up. Why don't you talk the way the rest of us do? Why do you say 'am not,' and 'ar'n't'; why don't you say 'ain't'?" The girl mimicked Ellen's voice impishly. Ellen colored. "I am going to talk the way I think best, the way I have been taught is right, and if that makes you think I am stuck up, I can't help it." "My, don't get mad. I didn't mean anything," said the other girl.