ge and of infancy, of despair and of joy, mingled and became the
anonymous murmur of a hot, human multitude.

The following morning I put ten cents in my pocket and started out to
get a job before this sum should be used up. How huge the city seemed
when I thought of the small space I could cover on foot, looking for
work! I walked toward the river, as the commercial activity expressed
itself in that direction by fifteen-and twenty-story buildings and
streams of velvet smoke. Blocks and blocks of tenements, with the same
dirty people wallowing around them, answered my searching eyes in blank
response. There was an occasional dingy sign offering board and lodging.
After I had made several futile inquiries at imposing offices on the
river front I felt that it was a hopeless quest. I should never get work
unknown, unskilled, already tired and discouraged. My collar was wilted
in the fierce heat; my shabby felt sailor hat was no protection against
the sun's rays; my hands were gloveless; and as I passed the plate glass
windows I could see the despondent droop of my skirt, the stray locks of
hair that blew about free of comb or veil. A sign out: "Manglers
wanted!" attracted my attention in the window of a large steam laundry.
I was not a "mangler," but I went in and asked to see the boss. "Ever
done any mangling?" was his first question.

"No," I answered, "but I am sure I could learn." I put so much ardour
into my response that the boss at once took an interest.

"We might give you a place as shaker; you could start in and work up."

"What do you pay?"

"Four dollars a week until you learn. Then you would work up to five,
five and a half."

Better than nothing, was all I could think, but I can't live on four a
week.

"How often do you pay?"

"Every Tuesday night."

This meant no money for ten days.

"If you think you'd like to try shaking come round Monday morning at
seven o'clock."

Which I took as my dismissal until Monday.

At least I had a job, however poor, and strengthened by this thought I
determined to find something better before Monday. The ten-cent piece
lay an inviting fortune in my hand. I was to part with one-tenth of it
in exchange for a morning newspaper. This investment seemed a reckless
plunge, but "nothing venture, nothing have," my pioneer spirit prompted,
and soon deep in the list of _Wanted, Females_, I felt repaid. Even in
my destitute condition I had a choice in mind. If possible I wan