Omaha daily bee., 1909-01-24

tired. colorless voice would explain.
There's nothing left tonight"
The next morning I got up at an I'M
godly hour and became a woman who tolls.
Some day l shall write a paper on Fore
ladies l Have known" Mine had a very
small waist. a r7mpadour ana an impos-
ing manner OF having risen from the
ranks. / asked for work in a tone that /
tried to make subtly independent and be-
fittingiy respectful. The conjunction il
difficult.
ways of the ForeIady.
She looked me over leisurely. Had l ever
worked in fruit before? No. She couldn't
use me-, she wanted experienced packers.
And then a desire for that particular job
awoke and biazed within me and l began
to ak. AND ! talked until / saw her ex-
preston soften.
l don't remember what l said before I
confessed to having a husband who had
left me, but l remember hearing myself
say that l had a little boy. l called him
Willie and said that he was years old.
Get a knife and a mould over there and
III see If l can use you she said.
l got a knife and a mould and went and
stood at the vacant place she had indi-
Gated and wondered IL / always had such
possibilities latent or whether they were
born Of the occasion.
1t was a dried fig packing house, and
can see It yet, every face, almost every
fig. The big barnlike room with sliding
doors opening on a platform piled high
with boxes of fruit, the trains drawn up
on the siding waiting to be loaded. And
beyond, scattered cottages, the smoke
staNla ~ othnr po,lripy ba,,ga. ,,a 49,
the country-miles Upon miles of green,
shinmering in the hot sun. The long
tables lined with women and girls
heavy faced Russians, fat Neapolitans with
dirty waists, dark eyed Armenians, clean.
self-assertive Americans. Every woman
bent over a pile OF yellow figs, the heavy
smell Of tons OF warm fruit, the cIank OF
machinery, the soft mud of the figs as
they fell from the separator, the click of
the scales as the women weighed and the
high, singing call, More fruit fru-it!'
Learning the Work,
Suddenly the forewomen was behind me.
Watch me- she said.
Leaning over she seized a hot fig. give
it one slit with a knife, pushed up with
her first fingers and down with her thumbs
and make a butterfly out OF it. Again
NN So eiC hu 4 Ailt Sltpptu WedTllY
aside and told me to try.
1 flourished the knife, give the slit and
was left with a piece of skin sticking on
my thumb. Where, whore or how the In
terror Of that fig vanished shall never
know. II was and 1t was not.
A dozen times more she showed me, and
then to my infinite relief left me to prac-
tise. l tried to catch the trick from the
girl opposite, but her hands flew so quickly
l could make nothing OF it. Besides, her
fingers were all wrapped in rags TO keen
the I've that is put on during the drying
from eating away the nails. Before my
month was up l could pick out the differ
ent workers by their wounds: Crumbling
nails, figs; big, callous Jumps at the ends
OF the thumbs, prune packers; callous
strips across the palm, peelers IN the can
neries; skin thick and white like leprosy.
tomato Gamers; finger ends flat and black,
raisin packers. It's almost a Bertlllon sys-
tenn.
Then just when I thought that 1 never
could flatten out a fig / did it. After
that there was nothing to learn, just to
work up a speed.
BY IL 1 could do it, not quickly but with
out spelling any. 1 could pack my mould
so that each Of the five divisions weighed
the exact eight ounces prescribed by law,
and when they didn't could ram a few figs
into the center without taking the whole to
pieces. After that It was Just slit, push,
pack and on without ceasing.
1t was no good trying to talk to the girls
around. They only looked at me SUSPECT
ously. They were there to pack figs, so
presumably was I. Every moment wasted
in anything else meant so much money
less.
Gradually the awful necessity OF haste
frightened me. With eyes fixed on their
work they turned neither to the right nor
to the left. The tension was almost pal
pable. l too began to hurry, every muscle
rigid with effort. An unseen
was driving me forward. l forgot the
sharp ache In my ankles and the knife
pain between my shoulders. / thought of
nothing else but finishing another brick.
At IL the whistle blew. AS one the day
workers quit, but the packers went on
until the angry voice of the boss called
n more" Even then an old Sicilian,
wrinkled and yellow like a bit of leather,
tried to elude him, btu he went over and
Jerked her from the table by her arm.
Screaming on the saints to bear witness
that she had come five minutes late that
morning and needed the money, shaking
her scrawny fist in his face, she tried tc
struggle back to her place. The man
dragged himself free, but between them
her last tray Of figs fell to the floor. Jab-
bering wildly the old woman went down
on her knees, while the man turned away
laughing. She picked them up alone, mum.
bling to herself, the big, gold hoops In
her ears beating a mad dance. When She
had finished she tied a green shawl over
her head and xvanf anraN
After lunch we began again. It was moi
hard work as such work goes. | know thai
now. But the awful monotony of those
endless figs, BY . l could scarcely stand
but the others worked on without stopping
They call it a good day, one like that, wher
the fruit pours in an everlasting stream
from the separator and nothing stops tn,
fattening Of the figs.
BY 3 it was sitting. Outside the hea
palpitated as II the very earth were strug
CLING TO finish her task. to force the grow
ing things to maturity before nightfall By
$50 / had made o. cents. They told me
had don well for a green hand and wher
l Lao been at It several seasons | woul,
be sure to make my s. a day. They ais,
told me that l would soon get used 10 tn,
awful pain in my shoulders, or l wouldn'
feel it. I don't remember which.
amounted to the same thing.
Passing of the Pain.
They were quite light. By the fifth da,
the sharpness of the pain was gone. A