of other nationalities following. These replies are
precisely of the same nature as those given some time ago in
Philadelphia during an investigation made by the head of one of the
first guilds for working-women established in this country, objections
being practically the same at whatever point they may be given. They
were arranged under different heads and numbered in order.

In the present case it seems well to take the individual testimony, each
girl whose verdict is chosen representing a class, and being really its
mouthpiece.

First on the list stands Margaret M----, an American, twenty-three years
old, and for five years in a paper-box factory. Seven others nodded
their assent, or added a word here and there as she gave her view, two
of them Irish-Americans who had had some years in the public schools.

"It's freedom that we want when the day's work is done. I know some nice
girls, Bridget's cousins, that make more money and dress better and
everything for being in service. They're waitresses, and have Thursday
afternoon out and part of every other Sunday. But they're never sure of
one minute that's their own when they're in the house. Our day is ten
hours long, but when it's done it's done, and we can do what we like
with the evenings. That's what I've heard from every nice girl that ever
tried service. You're never sure that your soul's your own except when
you are out of the house, and I couldn't stand that a day. Women care
just as much for freedom as men do. Of course they don't get so much,
but I know I'd fight for mine."

"Women are always harder on women than men are," said a fur-sewer, an
intelligent American about thirty. "I got tired of always sitting, and
took a place as chambermaid. The work was all right and the wages good,
but I'll tell you what I couldn't stand. The cook and the waitress were
just common, uneducated Irish, and I had to room with one and stand the
personal habits of both, and the way they did at table took all my
appetite. I couldn't eat, and began to run down; and at last I gave
notice, and told the truth when I was asked why. The lady just looked at
me astonished: 'If you take a servant's place, you can't expect to be
one of the family,' she said. 'I never asked it,' I said; 'all I ask is
a chance at common decency.' 'It will be difficult to find an easier
place than this,' she said, and I knew it; but ease one way was hardness
another, and she couldn't see that I had any rig