, the master riveter, alone received her with just the right
hospitality. He had no fear that she would steal his job or his glory
or that any man would. He had talked with her often and let her
practise at his riveting-gun. He had explained that her ambition to be
a riveter was hopeless, since it would take at least three month's
apprenticeship before she could hope to begin on such a career. But
her sincere longings to be a builder and not a loafer won his
respect.

When she expressed a shy wish to belong to his riveting-gang he said:

"Right you are, miss--or should I say mister?"

"I'd be proud if you'd call me bo," said Mamise.

"Right you are, bo. We'll start you in as a passer-boy. I'll be glad
to get rid of that sleep-walker. Hay, Snotty!" he called to a grimy
lad with an old bucket. The youth rubbed the back of his greasy glove
across the snub of nose that had won him his name, and, shifting his
precocious quid, growled:

"Ah, what!"

"Ah, go git your time--or change to another gang. Tell the supe. I'm
not fast enough for you. Go on--beat it!"

Mamise saw that she already had an enemy. She protested against
displacing another toiler, but Sutton told her that there were jobs
enough for the cub.

He explained the nature of Mamise's duties, talking out of one side of
his mouth and using the other for ejaculations of an apparently
inexhaustible supply of tobacco-juice. Seeing that Mamise's startled
eyes kept following these missiles, he laughed:

"Do you use chewin'?"

"I don't think so," said Mamise, not quite sure of his meaning.

"Well, you'll have to keep a wad of gum goin', then, for you cert'n'y
need a lot of spit in this business."

Mamise found this true enough, and the next time Davidge saw her she
kept her grinders milling and used the back of her glove with a
professional air. For the present, however, she had no brain-cells to
spare for mastication. Sutton introduced her to his crew.

"This gink here with the whiskers is Zupnik; he's the holder-on; he
handles the dolly and hangs on to the rivets while I swat 'em. The
pill over by the furnace is the heater; his name is Pafflow, and his
job is warming up the rivets. Just before they begin to sizzle he
yanks 'em out with the tongs and throws 'em to you. You ketch 'em in
the bucket--I hope, and take 'em out with your tongs and put 'em in
the rivet-hole, and then Zupnik and me we do the rest. And what do we
call you? Miss Webling is no name