“That woman,” he said, “stops me from being a better man, Al. You don’t know, lad, how often I try to tone up, and she always does something to prevent my carrying it out. I suppose it’s partly because she drinks, too, and likes it better than I do. Drink makes quite a difference in people, God knows! It’s the stuff that kept me from being a man. Now that you’re going into the mill, Al, I hope you’ll not be led off to touch it. Whatever you’re tempted to do, don’t drink!” Then he added, “I’m a nice one to be telling you that. You see it every day, and probably will see it every day while your aunt’s with me. I could leave it alone if she weren’t in the house. But now we’ve got to be planning what we are going to do in the office that we’re going to, I suppose. There’s a lie in it for both of us, Al, now that we have our foot in so far. You’ll have to swear with me that you’re the right, legal age, though it’s a deliberate lie. My God, who would ever have thought that I’d come to it. It’s jail if we’re caught, lad, but we won’t be caught. Don’t do anything but answer questions as they’re put. That will keep you from saying too much. Stand on your tip-toes, and talk deep, so that you’ll seem big and old.” Finally we approached the office of the school-committee, in a dingy, wooden building, on the ground floor. A chipped tin sign was tacked underneath the glass panels of the door, and, sure of the place, we entered. We were in a narrow, carpeted hall, long and darkened, which passed before a high, bank desk, behind which sat a young man mumbling questions to a dark woman, who stood with her right hand held aloft, while a boy stood at her side trying to button his coat as fast as he could, in nervousness. There were several other boys and a few girls, seated with their parents on the settee near the wall. We found a place among them, and watched the solemn proceedings that were taking place before us, as boys and girls were questioned by the young man, vouched for by their parents, and sent off with their mill-certificates. One by one they left us: tall Portuguese lads, with baggy, pepper-and-salt trousers over their shoe tops, and a shine on their dark cheeks, little girls in gaudy dresses and the babyishness not yet worn off their faces; Irish lads, who, in washing up for this solemn time, had forgotten patches of dirt in their ears and on their necks; an American boy, healthy, strong, and self-confident, going to join the ranks of labor.