hing about her _Mann_ to-day so badly,
but could not find the English words. Her joy when I said, "Tell me in
German"! How came I to speak German? I'd spent three years in Germany
with an American family, taking care of the children. Honest for once.

"That was luck for you," says Tessie.

"That was sure luck for me," says I--honest again.

Wherever Lena works there floats conversation for a radius of three
tables. The subject matter is ever the same--"dopes." "Is he big?...
Gee! I say!... More like a sister to him.... He never sees the
letters." "Lena" (from Ida), "shut up and get to work!" ... "I picked
him up Sunday.... Where's them waxing papers?... Third she vamped in
two days.... Sure treats a girl swell.... Them ain't pineapples...."
"Lee-na! get to work or I'll knock the hell out a ya!" And pretty Lena
giggles on: "He says.... She says to him.... Sure my father says if he
comes 'round again...."

And Tessie and I; I bend over to hear Tessie's soft, low German as she
tells me how good her _Mann_ is to her; how he never, never scolds, no
matter if she buys a new hat or what; how he brings home all his pay
every week and gives it to her. He is such a good _Mann_. They are
saving all their money. In two years they will go back near Muenchen
and buy a little farm.

Tessie and her poor _Mann_, with his broken elbow and his swollen arm
all black and blue, couldn't sleep last night. Oh dear! this New York!
One man at one corner he talk about Harding, one man other corner he
talk about Cox; one man under their window he talk MacSwiney--New York
talk, talk, talk!

Looked like rain to-day, but how can a body buy an umbrella
appropriate to chocolate packing at thirteen dollars a week when the
stores are all closed before work and closed after? I told Lillian my
troubles. I asked Lillian if a cheap umbrella could be purchased in
the neighborhood.

"Cheap," sniffs Lillian. "I don't know. I got me a nice one--sample
though--at Macy's for twelve-fifty." Lillian may take to her bed after
supper, but while she is awake she is going to be every inch to the
manner born.

By the time I pack the two thousandth box of "assorteds" my soul turns
in revolt. "If you give me another 'assorted' to pack," says I to Ida,
"I'll lie down here on the floor and die."

"The hell you will," says Ida. But she gets me fancy pound boxes with
a top and bottom layer, scarce two candies alike, and Tessie beams on
me like a mother with an only