The daily worker. [volume] (Chicago, Ill.) 1924-1958, 1926-05-08

preston of sympathy.
I'm sorry, Tom"
"But Mr.. Brown"
sit amt me, Tom; it's the superintendent"
"The superintendent"
you see Tom, you're gettin' too old for
this job. Lately you've been packin' thirty and
forty pounds of rosin to the box when you
should be totin sixty. That slows up produc-
ton, Tom; so the superintendent been bawl-
in hell outa me for keepin' you. He says to let
you go and get younger Teller"
The gnarled hands of the old worker clutched
at the foreman's arm convulsively.
Don't do that, Mr.. Brown; give me another
chance. can carry the full load. You see if
l can't"
But the foreman shook his head
mo, no. Tom! It would be all right with
me; but the superintendent"
Maybe if l see him. -
st won't do any good, Tom"
But the old worker would not be convinced.
He made his trembling way to the factory Office
Of Sherman & Wilson, paint and varnish manu-
facturers The superintendent looked annoy
ed at seeing him. 1t always made him feel bad,
anyway, to have to let an old employee out-es-
peciaIy one who had stood by the firm during
the labor trouble fifteen years ago, and who
had been on the payroll for nearly twice that
length of time; but you can't afford to run
business on sentiment. The varnish room was
behind now on orders, and a younger, faster
man was absolutely needed.
Really Tom, we're doing you favor What
you want is something not so heavy That's
the thing to do; get lighter job"
''But where how"
ooh, you'll find lots Of em If you look Sure
you will! No need to worry. Light portering,
Tom; that's the ticket! Send anyone to me
for references. And now. . now. :"
The old man found himself outside the Office
walking blindly down the passageway. In the
locker-room he sat for long time before
changing from his paint-staned overalls and
jumper into the worn gray suit which was at
the same time his Sunday best.
In the name of God, what was he to tell
Sara? Only last night they had been so jubi-
liant over reaching the fifty dollar mark in
their savings account. Now now.
He got aboard street-car and slumped into
vacant seat Fifty years of work was run
ming thru his mind. Fifty years of toll. Twen-
ty-eight of them in the employ of the paint
company. And now nothing to show for them,
He brushed his soiled finger YEARLY across his
brow Once he had nearly bought a home
But that had been when the kids were young
before little Billy had been run over and had
his spine hurt. 1t had taken every cent he made
then to pay the doctor bills. Some of the bills
had taken years to pay. Nine dollars a week
is such small sum! OF course they lost the
house. Poor little Billys funeral did that for
them Then Ella grew up such delicate girl
The damp climate wasn't good for her, the
doctor said. They had borrowed the money to
send her to Colorado; but it was too late then
How much was it? A thousand, a thousand 4. .
He got off at his stop. No; he wouldn't tell
Sara about the loss of his job. Not for awhile,
anyway. Sara hadn't been the same since that
operation two years ago. 1t wouldn't do to
worry her now. Hadn't the doctor told him
only last week that she might need another
operation soon. Perhaps the superintendent
was right. There might be lots of light jobs
lying around. Time enough to tell her when
he had another one. Time enough then. He
tried to look his usual self as he climbed the
three fights of steps to their two-room apart
ment on the third floor back. Sara had never
gotten over that little habit she had of meet