or
man. At last there is no one left in the elevator but the muttering
man and me. "Well," I falter, chewing weakly on my Black Jack, "What
shall I do, then?"

"I'll leave ya off at the third this time, but don't ya try this trick
again."

"Again? Goodness! You don't think I'd make this mistake twice, do
you?"

"_Twice?_" he bellows. "_Twice?_ Didn't I have this all out with ya
yesterday mornin'?"

"Goodness, no!" I try to assure him, but he is putting me off at third
and calling after me: "Don't I know I did tell ya all this yesterday
mornin'? And don't ya forget it next time, neither." It must be awful
to be that man's wife. But I love him compared to the Vandyke beard in
the Subway reading _The Gospel According to St. John_.

Everybody is squatting about on scant corners and ledges waiting for
the eight o'clock bell. I squat next the thrifty Spanish lady, whereat
she immediately begins telling me the story of her life.

"You married?" she asks. No. "Well don' you do it," says the fat and
mussy Espaniole, as the girls called her. "I marry man--five years,
all right. One morning I say, 'I go to church--you go too?' He say
'No, I stay home.' I go church. I come home. I fin' him got young girl
there. I say, 'You clear out my house, you your young girl!' Out he
go, she go. 'Bout one year 'go he say he come back. I say no you don'.
He beg me, beg me come home. I say no, no, no. He write me letter,
letter, letter. I say no, no, no. Bymby I say alright, you come live
my house don't you _touch_ me, hear? Don' you _touch_ me. He live one
room, I live one room. He no touch me. Two weeks 'go he die. Take all
my money, put him in cemetery. I have buy me black waist, black skirt.
I got no money more. I want move from that house--no want live that
house no more--give me bad dreams. I got no money move. Got son
thirteen. He t'ink me fool have man around like that. I no care. See
he sen's letter, letter, letter. Now I got no money. I have work." The
bell rings. We shiver ourselves into the ice box.

No Tessie across the table. Instead a strange, unkempt female who
sticks it out half an hour, announces she has the chills in her feet,
and departs. Her place is taken by a slightly less disheveled young
woman who claims she'd packed candy before where they had seats and
she thought she'd go back. They paid two dollars less a week, but it
was worth two dollars to sit down. How she packs! The sloppiest work I
ever saw. It outrage