Nor will I forget that exhibition of the boss's ideas of scientific management. Nothing in the factory was ever where anyone could find it. It almost drove me crazy. What was my joy then when one day the boss told me to put the spools in order. There was a mess of every-colored spool, mixed with every other color, tangled ends, dust, buttons, loose snappers, more dust, beads, more spools, more dust. A certain color was wanted by a stitcher. There was nothing to do but paw. The spool, like as not, would be so dusty it would take blowings and wipings on your skirt before it could be discovered whether the color was blue or black. I tied my head in tissue paper and sat down to the dusty job of sorting those spools. Laboriously I got all the blacks together and in one box. Laboriously all the whites. That exhausted all the boxes I could lay hands on. I hunted up the boss. “I can't do that spool job decent if I ain't got no boxes to put the different colors in.” “Boxes, boxes! What for you want boxes?” “For the spools.” “'Ain't you got no boxes?” “'Ain't got another one.” He hustled around to the spool shelves where I was working. “_Ach_, boxes! Here are two boxes. What more you want?” Majestically, energetically, he dumped my black spools out of one box, my white spools out of the other—dumped them back with a flourish into the mess of unassorted dust and colors. “Here are two boxes! What more you want?” What redress had I for such a grievance except to wail at him: “My Gawd! my Gawd! I jus' put those spools in them boxes!” “_Ach_, so!” says the boss. “Vell, put um back in again.” With the sweat of my life's blood I unearthed a ragged empty box here, another there, no two sizes the same. After three days of using every minute to be spared from other jobs on those shelves, I had every single spool where it belonged and each box labeled as to color. How wondrous grand it looked! How clean and dusted! I made the boss himself gaze upon the glory of it. “_Ach_, fine!” he beamed. Two days later it was as if I had never touched a spool. The boxes were broken, the spools spilled all over—pawing was again in season. Not yet quite so much dust, but soon even the dust would be as of yore. “One cause of labor unrest is undoubtedly the fact that the workers are aware that present management of industry is not always 100 per cent efficient.” * * * * *