The Twin City star. [volume] (Minneapolis, Minn.) 1910-19??, 1917-10-13

Tom locked at her twice. Dimples and
red curly hair were not such a bad
combination after all. Telka was
drowsy and indolent in her ways un-
less reused to anger, but here was a
girl with bit of old Ireland In her
makeup like dash Of pepper. The
next day he brought some roses for
Tess, but she was busy in the packing
room, and he gave them to Telka at
the last moment. Then, when the days
grew warm, the social club arranged
Tor :. Sunday outing up the Hudson.
Tess heard the girls talking about it
ana planning. 1t seemed as IL she
could feel the weight of her own heart
in her loneliness. If only there was
someone who wanted her most Of all,
omeone whom she wanted, too. Tom
called to her as she went up the stairs
Saturda: morning, but she did not no.
tice him. All at once she felt great
bitterness against the whole cruel
pressure, the daily grind that ate up
'outh and happiness, the pitiful little
81 that was due her that night, old
Levinsky's face at the time clock when
she rang up, Miss Gulitsky, the fore
woman giving out the work of the
day-what was 1t all worth in the big
count up Of life?
That morning at breakfast her moth
er had been telling Of her home In the
old country, of the beautiful lakes of
Killarney and Of the lifting glory of
the hills around them. It seemed like
another world to Tess from this mar
row street filed with crowded Italian
children, and endless rows Of factories
and shops below Blocker street.
She was thinking of this, hating her
work, her companions, Telka's sleek,
dark head, the sound Of the machinery,
everything in the place.
"We'll be let out at twelve noon to-
day." the girl at the checking desk
said. "Boss's got a soft heart, guess,
on account Of the picnic. What you
going to wear, Tessw
Tess scowled. It was on the tip of
her tongue to say she wasn't going.
The clock over her head said ten min
utes to twelve. She caught up her
last load Of boxes and started for the
inclosed wooden stairs. And half way
down she saw a little curling of
smoke. It was ever so slight, hardly
noticeable, only when you work In
paper box factory you grow to see
such things very quickly. In ten min
utes or less 1t would eat it's way
through and the wood partitions would
blaze up like matchwood. Tess
stared at 1t, and then went deliberate
ly on to the second floor.
They would have their picnic with
out her, would they? They would
laugh at her red hair and call her
Irish, would they? She'd show them.
1t gave her the strangest, most won
derful thrill to know how she held the
fate Of the whole factory in her hands.
OF course they would get out in time.
She just wanted to give them good
scare. All the time her last lot Of
boxes were being packed for shipment,
she, stood looking at the clock count
ing minutes. Five, six, seven. Sud-
denly she turned and ran for the
stairs. Levinsky called after her that
the door was locked, she'd have to
use the freight elevator if she want
ed to 60 up. But that red hair was
not without it's own significance. Tess
reached the little fire alarm box by the
door and before anyone could stop her
she had smashed the glass and turned
the key around.
Twelve noon found the girls making
for the stairway in panic Of fear, the
fear of the paper. box worker. And
the stairs were filed with the peril Of
death, rising clouds Of choking smoke
that drove them back. Toms voice
above all called them to the freight
elevator, and Tess was leading them
like lot Of sheep to safety, when
she missed Telka. She went back
into the smoke just as the firemen
came on, run.
It was Tom who found her, still
gripping the fainting girl in her strong
young arms. her ankle twisted in her
fall; and he carried them both to
safety. The next day as the steamer
turned slowly up the river in the flood
Of late May sunshine Tess snuggled
closer to the broad shoulder beside
her. There had been cheer given
for the girl with the red hair who had
given the alarm in time at II noon,
but she hardly heard it. Her face
was bent over a bouquet Of rose ge-
ranium and heliotrope and mignon-
cite from Toms mothers garden in
Fordham.