m in no hurry at all, madam," said a calm, lady-like voice. "Do
not hurry the poor girl, please. She is probably tired."

"She has no right to be tired at this time in the morning"--Miss
Fairbanks was trying to be polite, but her voice was still snappy.

"Are you never tired at this hour?" asked the lady, calmly. "I
frequently wake tired, and from no especial reason. In this case I
should think it surprising if she ever felt rested."

"Oh, they get used to it--we all do," said Miss Fairbanks, stammering.
"Or, at least, we must do our work just the same. We are not supposed to
have feelings."

"Pray, tell me who are your judges, madam?" The lady spoke more sharply.
"Who dares to say that human beings who earn their living have no
feelings?"

"Well, if they don't say so out loud that is what they think," replied
the buyer. "Why, we'd be discharged before night if we were to complain
of too much work. They want machines in these stores, and we are the
nearest substitutes."

"Well, why don't you all rebel and force your employers to think
differently? Mind, I don't tell you to do it. I am just asking for
information."

"It would do no good; we would simply lose our places, and for each one
of us there would be ten applicants to-morrow."

Miss Fairbanks spoke the truth, and she spoke it sadly.

For the second time Faith was inclined to think that the woman was not
bad-hearted.

"The law should step in and regulate such matters," said the lady. "So
much authority should not be allowed to a few human beings. A few
arrests for manslaughter would not be amiss. I have just seen one woman
who is being killed by this slavery, and there are plenty more behind
these counters."

"But no jury could convict our employers, if that is what you mean."
Miss Fairbanks was gasping over the startling suggestion.

"I'm not so sure," said the lady thoughtfully. "If they could see what I
have just seen they might possibly do it There is a young woman dying
this minute down in that villainous cloak-room."

With a smothered groan Faith sprang swiftly to the floor.

"It is Mary--my friend," she cried out in agony. "No, Miss Fairbanks,
you shall not stop me! I will go to Miss Jennings!"

CHAPTER XI.

A DEATH IN THE CLOAK-ROOM.

When Faith reached the cloak-room she found a scene of the wildest
confusion. A number of clerks and cash girls were surrounding Miss
Jennings, who lay on the floor upon a pile of wraps which they