“Nobody. It just was a big, empty place with lots of sunshine and it seemed nicer than eating down-stairs,” gasped Peter.
“Are you sure they were eating their lunch and not starting a fire?” suggested the insurance inspector in an undertone.
“Of course we weren’t setting a fire!” Peter cried indignantly, hearing the whispered words of the inspector. “We just came up here to get where it was clean and quiet. When it is too cold to go out there isn’t any place to eat except right in the factory.”
“Well, that is no excuse for your coming here. It is against the rule for any of the employees to come above the fourth floor without permission. I thought you both understood that. If you didn’t it is your own fault. You may finish out your week here and on Saturday night you may consider yourselves discharged from the tannery.” Mr. Tyler put his hand on Peter’s shoulder. “I’m sorry, Strong,” he added.
“Just one moment, Tyler.”
It was Mr. Coddington who spoke.
“Tell me more fully about this matter, Peter Strong. You say you have no suitable place to eat your lunch.”
“Yes, sir.”
“What do the other men do?”
“They sit around under the machinery anywhere they can. Often the place is dirty and sometimes it is hot. If the windows are opened to air the rooms the men get cold,” answered Peter.