Monday morning I asked Mame about Sunday. She'd been to church in the
morning (Mame, like most of the girls at the brassworks, was a
Catholic), a show in the afternoon, cabaret for dinner, had danced
till 1, and played poker until 4 A.M. "If only my husband was alive,"
said Mame, "I'd be the happiest girl on earth."

One night Mame's landlady wanted to go out and play poker. She asked
Mame to keep her eye and ear out for the safety of the house. Every
five minutes Mame thought she heard a burglar or somethin'. "Gee! I
hardly slept at all; kep' wakin' up all the time. An' that landlady
never got in till six this mornin'!"

"My Gawd!" I exclaimed. "Hope she was lucky after playin' poker that
long!"

"She sure was," sighed Mame. "Gee! I jus' wish ya c'u'd see the swell
prize she won!--the most beau-teful statue--stands about three feet
high--of Our Blessed Lady of the Immaculate Conception."

Mame's friendship could become almost embarrassing. One day she
announced she wanted me to marry one of her brothers-in-law. "I got
two nice ones and we'll go out some Sunday afternoon and you can have
your pick. One's a piano tuner; the other's a detective." I thought
offhand the piano tuner sounded a bit more domestic. He was swell,
Mame said.

Mame didn't think she'd stay long in the brassworks. It was all
right--the boss she thought was sort of stuck on her. Did he have a
wife? (The boss, at least sixty years old.) Also Charlie was making
eyes at her. (Charlie was French; so was Mame. Charlie knew six words
of English. Mame three words of French. Charlie was sixteen). No,
aside from matrimony, Mame was going to train in Bellevue Hospital and
earn sixty dollars a week being a children's nurse. She'd heard if you
got on the right side of a doctor it was easy, and already a doctor
was interested in getting Mame in.

And I've just walked off and left Mame.

* * * * *

Kicked the foot press 7,149 times by the meter to-day and expected to
die of weariness. Thumped, thumped, thumped without stopping. As with
candy, I got excited about going on piecework. Asked Miss Hibber what
the rates were for my job--four and a half cents for one hundred and
fifty. Since I had to kick twice for every cone top finished, that
would have meant around one dollar fifteen cents for the day. Vanished
the piece-rate enthusiasm. Tillie seemed the only girl on our floor
doing piecework. Tillie, who "was born there." She