The wooden racks held lengths of silk and cloth, weighted at the ends to keep them from blowing away. The materials were dyed in crude, vivid colors, and Bob explained that they were brought from the factory after being dipped so that his employer might personally observe the changes they underwent after exposure to strong sunlight.
"We only take orders and send out salesmen from the office downstairs," he said. "The factory is near Georgetown and employs about two hundred hands."
After they had made the circuit of the roof, picking out familiar landmarks and wrangling lazily over distances and geographical boundaries, they were ready to go down. Bob must return to work, and the girls had planned a trip to the Bureau of Engraving and Printing.
"I tell you I was glad our office wasn't on the top floor this morning," Bob casually remarked as they stood waiting for the elevator. "Something was the matter, and everybody had to walk up. The fourth floor was plenty far enough up for us then."
"Mother always says we don't appreciate conveniences till we have to do without them," said Bobby. "Here comes the car."
The grinning negro boy who operated the elevator smiled a wide smile as they filed into his car.
"You-all get a nice view?" he asked sociably.
They assured him that they had, and he seemed pleased, but his red light glowing at that moment, he gave all his attention to stopping at the next floor. Two women got on and, at the next floor, two men.
The gate had just closed after this last stop, and Betty had opened her mouth to tell Bobby that her hat was tipped crookedly when with a sickening speed the car began to drop!
"We's slipping! I can't stop her! Oh, good gracious, the brakes or nothin' don't work!" The frenzied wail of the negro who was working valiantly at his levers gave the first intimation of danger.