That morning, after the street in front of Lloyd's factory had been cleared of the flocking employes with their little dinner-boxes, and the great broadside of the front windows had been set with faces of the workers, a distracted figure came past. A young fellow at a window of the cutting-room noticed her first. "Look at that, Jim Tenny," said he, with a shove of an elbow towards his next neighbor. "Get out, will ye?" growled Jim Tenny, but he looked. Then three girls from the stitching-room came crowding up behind with furtively tender pressings of round arms against the shoulders of the young men. "We come in here to see if that was Eva Loud," said one, a sharp-faced, alert girl, not pretty, but a favorite among the male employes, to the constant wonder of the other girls. "Yes, it's her fast enough," rejoined another, a sweet-faced blonde with an exaggeratedly fashionable coiffure and a noticeable smartness in the tie of her neck-ribbon and the set of her cotton waist. "Just look at the poor thing's hair. Only see how frowsly it is, and she has come out without her hat." "Well, I don't wonder," said the third girl, who was elderly and whose complexion was tanned and weather-beaten almost to the color of the leather upon which she worked. Yet through this seamed and discolored face, with thin grayish hair drawn back tightly from the temples, one could discern, as through a transparent mask, a past prettiness and an exceeding gentleness and faithfulness. "If my sister's little Helen was to be lost I shouldn't know whether my hat was on or not," said she. "I believe I should go raving mad." "You wouldn't have to slave as you have done supportin' it ever since your sister's husband died," said the pretty girl. "Only look how Eva's waist bags in the back and she 'ain't got any belt on. I wouldn't come out lookin' so." "I should die if I didn't have something to work for. That's the difference between being a worker and a slave," said the other girl, simply. "Poor Eva!" "Well, it was a pretty young one," said the first girl. "Looks to me as if Eva Loud's skirt was comin' off," said the pretty girl. She pressed close to Jim Tenny with a familiar air of proprietorship as she spoke, but the young man did not seem to heed her. He was looking over his bench at the figure on the street below, and his heavy black eyebrows were scowling, and his mouth set.