New-York tribune. [volume] (New York [N.Y.]) 1866-1924, 1900-01-21

worth six cents to her My. amt It hot"
she pulled, wiping her face with her apron II
was late in July and the sun beat remorseleBly
on the corrugated iron roof The fat woman
wondered why the manager had not set some
eucalyptus trees around the works. as she stood
in the doorway for a moment and gazed longing
ly at the mountains half hidden by gray gauzs
OF dust Looks like a Santa Ana said ths
wheezy one
Trays" sang out shriu trio OF sopranos
in the cutting room
Always short OF trays I believe the boys
eat en- growled the manager. passing through
to the Kitchen aid shaking things up all along
the line The manager spent more time in the
kitchen than in his Office. not altogether to the
qualification Of Dave. The cooking was a
critical process; and then from the back door Of
the kitchen the manager could keep one eye
on the labelling Privately Dave had expostu-
lated to Hebe that it didn't do the help any
good to eye EN- ali the time; whereat Hebe
Winked privately and LUMINOSITY at the seaIer.
The last batch Of the forenoon had been mt
in to cook, and Dave scanned the water closely
to see II a telltale bubble was escaping, from a
leaky can. Suddenly the water quivered. Dave
IeIt little jar and heard crash as il a tan
stack OF loaded trays had toppIed over In thu
cutting room
true 10 his trick, the manager Ieaped I'D and
stooo astr1de corner of one of the big tanks
peerlng across the half partition to see what
the mischief
Ihere came creaking sound The building
swayed, the partitions heaving and the boards
grinding against each other. There was another
Jar as if a freight shifter had bumped into the
c$lhhery-then tremendous splash. and sprays
OF water Kissed upon the seaIer's hot irons
A second nj arm
lowed by a chorus of shrieks that overwhelmed
all things. After the earthquake was over the
girls had time to be frightened
My God" yelled the sealer, "the boss is par
boiIed!"
For a quivering moment the whole cannery
seemed horror stricken; then all rushed for tbs
tank. One woGaan fell in a faint, and the others
swept by her. Dave stood as if paraIyzed. but
with a queer look on his face that was either
Iunacy or amused eIf-possession There were
sounds Of a struggle in the tank, but no cry
was heard.
With blanched face the seaIer brushed BY
Dave and reached for the steam valve.
No" said Dave, holding him back, that's a
cold tank"
The manager was cIambering out. rejecting
courtesies- He dumb, pale, unreconciled.
II was his weakness TO take himself too seri-
ously- II nobody else laughs at him, a man
should jolly himself once in a while
There was only one litter, and it came from
the labelling shed. The manager turned coIored.
bit his lip and wrung out his brown side whisk-
ers- The one word Of fire escaped him. and he
hurried Off. the pink shirt cIinging to him like
shiny sticker On a can.
When the new pie label came out it was deco
rated with 4 striking figure OF mountain lion
showing his teeth and crouching for a spring
which was at once businesslike and appetizing,
the manager said to the artist
Jessie" Dave whispered as they sat on the
porch one September evening. after she had put
on the ring, would it have been any different II
there hadn't been any quaker"
Jessie laughed. who knows?'' she evaded-
Jessie was always rather elusive; but Dave
caught her in his arms and took several salts
factory answers.
4 PARIS TEMPERANCE RESTAURANT