“Well, I don’t know about that,” said Susan.
“I do,” cried Polly impetuously. “A job that takes all your time to earn enough to keep from starving is just robbery and slavery, that’s all.”
Aunt Sally assented gravely. “If you leave your work to look for another job, you are sure to starve before you find one,” she said, “and you might as well be chained to a oar, like those people in the ancient history. Fact is, we was worse off than galley-slaves, Sue; for ’twas the captain’s interest to keep them alive.”
“But it’s nobody’s interest to keep sewing women alive,” said Polly bitterly; “there’s plenty to take our places, if we drop. The labor market is overstocked, they say.”
“That’s what my preacher said,” replied Sally; “and all the comfort he had for me was that, if I did my duty, and came to church reg’lar, I’d git to heaven finally. I thanked him for his good advice, but I ain’t been to his church since.”
“Mr. Metzerott don’t believe in heaven,” said Polly, “maybe that’s why he’s so kind to us here on earth.”
“I believe in heaven,” said Susan slowly.
“You ain’t quite a born fool, Susan Price, that’s why. Of course the good Lord is goin’ to fix things so the poor will have a fair show somewhere. But we ain’t the good Lord, so far’s I know; and it’s our place to keep things fair and right on this earth, so far’s we can.”
“And that ain’t far,” said Susan.
“It’s as far as Mr. Metzerott, anyhow,” returned Sally rather sharply, “and we ain’t got no call to go no further, yit. And what I’m thinking about is his baker’s bill.”