ed quickly.

Long before the time for her to go back to work she was at the gates. She
sat down on a bench in the shade of a tree and waited for the whistle,
watching the boys and girls playing, running and jumping. She was too timid
to join in their games, although she would like to have done so.

When Rosalie came she went back to her work with her.

Before the day was ended she was so tired that she did indeed merit
Ninepins' sharp rebuke.

"Go on! Can't you go faster than that?" he cried.

Startled by the bang from his wooden leg which accompanied his words, she
stepped out like a horse under the lash of a whip, but only to slow up the
moment she was out of his sight. Her shoulders ached, her arms ached, her
head ached. At first it had seemed so easy to push the truck, but to have
to keep at it all day was too much for her. All she wanted now was for the
day to end. Why could she not do as much as the others? Some of them were
not so old as she, and yet they did not appear tired. Perhaps when she was
accustomed to the work she would not feel so exhausted.

She reasoned thus as she wearily pushed her loaded truck, glancing at
the others with envy as they briskly went on with their work. Suddenly
she saw Rosalie, who was fastening some threads, fall down beside the
girl who was next to her. At the same time a girlish cry of anguish was
heard.

The machinery was stopped at once. All was silent now, the silence only
broken by a moan. Boys and girls, in fact everyone, hurried towards
Rosalie, despite the sharp words from old Ninepins. "Thunder in Heaven,
the machines have stopped. What's the matter?" he cried.

The girls crowded around Rosalie and lifted her to her feet.

"What's the matter?" they asked.

"It's my hand," she murmured; "I caught it in the machine. Oh!..."

Her face was very pale, her lips bloodless. Drops of blood were falling
from her crushed hand. But upon examining it, it was found that only two
fingers were hurt, one probably broken.

Ninepins, who at first had felt pity for the girl, now began pushing
those who surrounded her back to their places.

"Be off; go back to your work," he cried. "A lot of fuss about nothing."

"Yes; it was a lot of fuss for nothing when you broke your leg, wasn't
it?" cried out a voice.

He glanced about to see who had spoken, but it was impossible to find
out in the crowd. Then he shouted again:

"Get back to your work. Hurry up!"

Slowly they disperse