was fifty-five
cents and a key and a safety pin more than some folk had that Monday
morning in New York.

You must know in days of unemployment that it is something of a
catastrophe if you do not land the first job you apply for Monday
morning. For by the time you reach the second place on the list, no
matter how fast you go, it is apt to be filled up from the group who
were waiting there from 7.30 on, as you had waited at your first hope.
The third chance is slimmer still by far, and if you keep on until 10
or 11 it is mostly just plain useless.

And if you do not land a job Monday, that whole week is as good as
lost. Of course, there is always a chance--the smallest sort of
hopeless chance--that something can be found later on in the week. The
general happening is that you stake your all on the 7.30 to 8.30 wait
Monday morning. Often it is 9 before the firm sees fit to announce it
wants no more help, and there you are with fifty-five cents and a key
and a safety pin--or less--to do till Monday next.

Strange the cruel comfort to be felt from the sight of the countless
others hurrying about hopelessly, hopefully, that raw Monday morning.
On every block where a firm had advertised were girls scanning their
already worn-looking lists, making sure of the address, hastening on.
Nor were they deterred by the procession marching away--even if some
one called, "No use goin' up there--they don't want no more." Perhaps,
after all, thought each girl to herself, the boss would want _her_.
The boss did not.

First, early in the morning and full of anticipation I made for the
bindery on West Eighteenth Street. That sounded the likeliest of the
possibilities. No need to get out the paper to make sure again of the
number. It must be where that crowd was on the sidewalk ahead, some
thirty girls and as many men and boys. Everyone was pretty
cheerful--it was twenty minutes to eight and most of us were young.
Rather too many wanted the same job, but there were no worries to
speak of. Others might be unlucky--not we. So our little group talked.
Bright girls they were, full of giggles and "gee's." Finally the
prettiest and the brightest of the lot peered in through the street
doors. "Say, w'at d'ye know? I see a bunch inside! Come on!"

In we shoved our way, and there in the dismal basement-like first
floor waited as many girls and men as on the sidewalk. "Good night! A
fat show those dead ones outside stand!" And we passed the time