as they passed. When at last the whistles and the bells announced five minutes before starting time, the keepers of the gate jumped up, threw away cigarette stubs, emptied pipes, grumbled foully, took consolation from tobacco plugs, and went into the mill. Zippy led me at a run up three flights of iron-plated stairs, through a tin-covered door, and into a spinning-room. When we arrived, not a wheel was stirring. I almost slipped on the greasy floor. Up and down the length of the room the ring-spinning frames were standing like orderly companies of soldiers forever on dress parade. Above, the ceiling was a tangled mass of belts, electric wires, pipes, beams, and shafting. The room was oppressively heated, and was flavored with a sort of canker breath. As I stood there, interested in my new surroundings, the wheels began to move, almost silently, save for a slight, raspy creaking in some of the pulleys. The belts began to tremble and lap, the room was filled with a low, bee-like hum. A minute later, the wheels were whirling with such speed that the belts clacked as they turned. The hum was climbing up the scale slowly, insistently, and one could not avoid feeling sure that it would reach the topmost note soon. Then the girl spinners jumped up from the floor where they had been sitting, and went to their frames. Some pulled the levers, and tried their machines. Everybody seemed to be shouting and having a last word of gossip. The second hand stood near the overseer’s desk with his fingers stuck in his mouth. He whistled, and that was the signal for all the girls to start their frames. At last the pulleys had attained that top note in their humming, like a top, and with it were mixed screams, whistles, loud commands, the rattle of doffer’s trucks, poundings, the clanking of steel on steel, and the regular day’s work was begun. Zippy had gone into the elevator room and changed his clothes. He stood near me, and I saw his lips move. “What?” I shouted at the top of my lungs. He laughed, and then warned, “Don’t thunder so. I can hear you if you speak lower. You’ll get used to hearing soon. Come with me. The boss says for me to show you where to dress.” “To dress!” At last I was to put on overalls and go barefooted! Zippy led me to the elevator room, a large, quiet place, when the thick door was shut and there were cheerful windows open, where the cool air came in. I stripped off my clothes and put on the overalls. I was ready for work. “The boss wants to see your certificate,” announced Zippy. [Illustration: I WAS GIVEN A BROOM, AND THEN I FOUND MYSELF ALONE WITH MARY] The overseer was a Canadian, like the second hand. He had his feet on the desk, and was engrossed in the _Morning Mercury_ when I reached him. He turned around with a terrific speed on his swivel chair, when we came up to him, and enquired, somewhat kindly, “Well?” “Please, sir,” I began, “I come to work--to sweep. Jim Coultier told me to come last night!”