“It is because I am paid so little that I have to work like this,” she answered, not relaxing an atom.
“How much?”
“Thirty cents a-piece.”
“How many can you stitch a day?”
“Well, if I work like this all day, nine.”
“But I should think it would kill you to work like this all the time.”
“I’ve been doing it for four years, and I’m not dead yet.”
I did not inform her that she looked as if she soon would be, but asked, “Doesn’t such constant, quick action give you pain?”
“Yes, in my shoulders, but I’ve got used to it.”
“Does any one else in this room stitch as fast as you do?”