"The likes
of me can't be idle. But where to look for any work for a mule
spinner, the Lord only knows!"
Even the French were sobered for once and talked eagerly among
themselves. Halfway down the street, in front of the French grocery, a
man was haranguing his compatriots from the top of a packing-box.
Everybody was anxious and excited by the sudden news. No work after a
week from to-morrow until times were better. There had already been a
cut-down, the mills had not been earning anything all winter. The
agent had hoped to keep on for at least two months longer, and then to
make some scheme about running at half time in the summer, setting
aside the present work for simple yarn-making. He knew well enough
that the large families were scattered through the mill rooms and that
any pay would be a help. Some of the young men could be put to other
work for the company; there was a huge tract of woodland farther back
among the hills where some timber could be got ready for shipping. His
mind was full of plans and anxieties and the telegram that morning
struck him like a blow. He had asked that he might keep the card-room
prices up to where the best men could make at least six dollars and a
half a week and was hoping for a straight answer, but the words on the
yellow paper seemed to dance about and make him dizzy. "Shut down
Saturday 9th until times are better!" he repeated to himself. "Shut
down until times are worse here in Farley!"
The agent stood at the counting-room window looking out at the
piteous, defenseless groups that passed by.
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