There were some words which passed too low to hear. Then the conversation became strong again.
"I don't blame these fellers for striking," said one. "They've got the right of it, all right, but I had to get something to do."
"Same here," said the other. "If I had any job in Newark I wouldn't be over here takin' chances like these."
"It's hell these days, ain't it?" said the man. "A poor man ain't nowhere. You could starve, by God, right in the streets, and there ain't most no one would help you."
"Right you are," said the other. "The job I had I lost 'cause they shut down. They run all summer and lay up a big stock, and then shut down."
Hurstwood paid some little attention to this. Somehow, he felt a little superior to these two—a little better off. To him these were ignorant and commonplace, poor sheep in a driver's hand.
"Poor devils," he thought, speaking out of the thoughts and feelings of a bygone period of success.
"Next," said one of the instructors.
"You're next," said a neighbour, touching him.
He went out and climbed on the platform. The instructor took it for granted that no preliminaries were needed.