nds to the far end of the big room.

"The lady with the black hair, sitting down there by them American
Beauties," said the elevator-boy, waving his hand toward the rear.

I passed down a narrow path between two rows of tables that looked like
blossoming hedges. Through the green of branches and leaves flashed the
white of shirt-waists, and among the scarlet and purple and yellow and
blue of myriad flowers bobbed the smiling faces of girls as they looked
up from their task long enough to inspect the passing stranger. Here
were no harsh sounds, no rasping voices, no shrill laughter, no pounding
of engines. Everything just as one would expect to find it in a
flower-garden--soft voices humming like bees, and gentle merriment that
flowed musically as a brook over stones.

"The lady with the black hair" sat before a cleared space on a table
banked on either side with big red roses. In front of her were three or
four glasses, each containing one salmon-colored rose, fresh and
fragrant from the hothouse.

Leaning forward, with her elbows on the table and her chin in her palm,
she was staring intently at these four splendid blooms. Then she picked
up a half-finished muslin rose and compared them. All this I saw while I
waited timidly for her to look up. But she did not see me. She was
absorbed in the study of the living rose. At last I summoned courage to
inquire if she was Miss Higgins. She started, looked up quickly, and
nodded her head, with a smile that displayed a row of pretty teeth. Her
manner was cordial.

"Have you ever worked at flowers before?" she asked.

"No."

"Ever worked at feathers?"

"No."

"Well, the best I can do is to put you at blossom-making to-day, and see
how you take to it. It's too bad, though, you don't know anything about
feathers; for the flower season ends in a month, anyway, and then I have
to lay off all my girls till September, unless they can make feathers
too. Then they get jobs on the next floor. There'll be lots of work
here, though, for a month, and we might take you back in September."

The tone was so kindly, the interest so genuine, that I was prompted to
explain my situation, assuring her I should be glad to get work even for
four weeks. As a result, I was put on Rosenfeld's pay-roll for three and
a half dollars per week, with half a day's extra pay for night work: the
latter had been a necessity three or four nights every week for six
months, and was likely to continue for