"Oh, they get used to it—we all do," said Miss Fairbanks, stammering. "Or, at least, we must do our work just the same. We are not supposed to have feelings."
"Pray, tell me who are your judges, madam?" The lady spoke more sharply. "Who dares to say that human beings who earn their living have no feelings?"
"Well, if they don't say so out loud that is what they think," replied the buyer. "Why, we'd be discharged before night if we were to complain of too much work. They want machines in these stores, and we are the nearest substitutes."
"Well, why don't you all rebel and force your employers to think differently? Mind, I don't tell you to do it. I am just asking for information."
"It would do no good; we would simply lose our places, and for each one of us there would be ten applicants to-morrow."
Miss Fairbanks spoke the truth, and she spoke it sadly.
For the second time Faith was inclined to think that the woman was not bad-hearted.
"The law should step in and regulate such matters," said the lady. "So much authority should not be allowed to a few human beings. A few arrests for manslaughter would not be amiss. I have just seen one woman who is being killed by this slavery, and there are plenty more behind these counters."
"But no jury could convict our employers, if that is what you mean." Miss Fairbanks was gasping over the startling suggestion.
"I'm not so sure," said the lady thoughtfully. "If they could see what I have just seen they might possibly do it There is a young woman dying this minute down in that villainous cloak-room."