e for the recreation room. For the first time
the piano was in use. A chambermaid, surrounded by four admiring
fellow-workers, was playing "Oh, they're killin' men and women for a
wearin' of the green." That is, I made out she meant it for that tune.
With the right hand she picked out what every now and then approached
that melody. With the left she did a tum-te-dum which she left
entirely to chance, the right hand and its perplexities needing her
entire attention. During all of this, without intermission, her foot
conscientiously pressed the loud pedal.

Altogether there were seven in the chambermaid's audience. I sat down
next to a little wrinkled auburn-haired Irish chambermaid whose face
looked positively inspired. She beat time with one foot and both
hands. "Ain't it jus' grand!" she whispered to me. "If I c'u'd jus'
play like that!" Her eyes sought the ceiling. When the player had
finished her rendition there was much applause. One girl left the
clouds long enough to ask, "Oh, Jennie, is it really true you never
took a lesson?" Jennie admitted it was true. "Think of that, now!" the
little woman by me gasped.

The chambermaid next gave an original interpretation of "Believe me if
all those endearing young charms." At least it was nearer that than
anything else. I had to tear myself away in the middle of what five
out of seven people finally would have guessed was "Way down upon the
Suwanee River." The faces of the audience were still wreathed in that
expression you may catch on a few faces at Carnegie Hall.

Monday there was a chambermaids' meeting. Much excitement. They had
been getting seven dollars a week. The management wished to change and
pay them by the month, instead--thirty dollars a month. There was
something underhanded about it, the girls were sure of that. In
addition there was a general feeling that everyone was in for more or
less of a cut in wages about September. A general undertone of
suspicion that day was over everything and everybody. Several
chambermaids were waiting around the recreation room the few moments
before the meeting. They were upset over that sign under the picture
of Christ, "No cursing no stealing when tempted look on his kindly
face." As long as they'd been in that hotel they'd never heard no
cursin' among the girls, and as for stealin'--well, they guessed the
guests stole more than ever the girls did. There were too many
squealers around that hotel, that was the trouble. One