Pike County press. (Milford, Pa.) 1895-1925, 1909-03-26
Was It a Dream?

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It was after 8 o'clock in the even
ing. The clerks and stenographers
had gone home.
sat in my large arm chair in my
Office and gazed comfortably out into
the streets. A cold sharp wind was
blowing and driving sleet before II.
My ofice was warm and pleasant and
| was happy in the satisfaction that
my business was prospering.
1t is pleasant, gratifying, to know
that you are growing wealthy and
to be looked upon as a business sue
cess
With these pleasant thoughts in
my mind I half closed my eyes. On
opening them was startled to see a
pale, gaunt, ragged woman standing
before me. l was more startled be-
cause l had not seen or heard the
door open.
She looked at me blankly. show
ing neither anger, timidity, boldness,
fear; neither supplicating nor COM
manding.
trembled, vainly tried to calm
myself, and said in chattering
whisper, do you need money!"
What" she replied in q voice
that froze my blood, "do the dead
need money Z"
Dead" l repeated. Dead! How
did you come to die?"
Yes" she replied, looking at me
with her cold, awful eyes that she
never took from my face, 81 was
murdered in your factory. l died Of
overwoTk and foul air to make you
rich; so that the world would smile
on you"
why didn't your husband sup
port your" I asked, grasping at that
straw to evade her cold-blooded ac-
cusation
Because he was killed by you. He
was caught in a band and whirled
around the wheel until he was man
gled to death. It would have cost
four dollars to have put guard rails
I'around it. You called it an act OF
Providence. Do you think GOD
kills people to save four dollars?"
But" l interposed, remembering
the case, you were given five hun
dred dollars"
will five hundred dollars take
the place Of husbands love; will
five hundred dollars care for and
protect a woman's children like their
father?"
wished that she could take her
terrible eyes off of me.
How much did your factory make
last year,"
Forty thousand dollars" re-
piled, and for once did not feel like
boasting of it.
How many lives of men and wo-
men does that represent worn out;
how many days robbed from child
hood; how much misery and suffer
ing does that forty thousand dollars
stand as a monument for?"
l could not reply, but forced by
her eyes, which pierced me like a
sword, l asked this question, which
l already knew the answer to-: dc
you have any children working in
my factory?"
when you walked through the
factory to-day and saw my boy you
said to yourself that you would tel
the foreman to discharge him be.
cause he is getting too feeble from
overwork and lack of a mothers
care to do the work my longer"
And my daughter" she contin,
ued mercilessly, you took her out
of the factory and gave her worl
in the office last week. You sait
that she was too intelligent to worl
in the factory"
A cold sweat came over me.
sat paralyzed in my chair and coult
make no reply.
But you said to yourself that she
was too beautiful"
l screamed and sprang to my
feet. 1t was dark in the room.
had been dreaming. l rushed dowI
into the lighted street.
It was so terrible to be alone in |
lark room with ones conscience
Robert Randell in Miners Maga
zine.