egular
hours and the cruel speeding-up, the lowering of wages, the raising of
prices! The mercilessness of nature about them, of heat and cold, rain
and snow; the mercilessness of the city, of the country in which they
lived, of its laws and customs that they did not understand! All of
these things had worked together for the company that had marked them
for its prey and was waiting for its chance. And now, with this last
hideous injustice, its time had come, and it had turned them out bag
and baggage, and taken their house and sold it again! And they could
do nothing, they were tied hand and foot--the law was against them, the
whole machinery of society was at their oppressors' command! If Jurgis
so much as raised a hand against them, back he would go into that
wild-beast pen from which he had just escaped!

To get up and go away was to give up, to acknowledge defeat, to leave
the strange family in possession; and Jurgis might have sat shivering
in the rain for hours before he could do that, had it not been for
the thought of his family. It might be that he had worse things yet to
learn--and so he got to his feet and started away, walking on, wearily,
half-dazed.

To Aniele's house, in back of the yards, was a good two miles; the
distance had never seemed longer to Jurgis, and when he saw the familiar
dingy-gray shanty his heart was beating fast. He ran up the steps and
began to hammer upon the door.

The old woman herself came to open it. She had shrunk all up with her
rheumatism since Jurgis had seen her last, and her yellow parchment face
stared up at him from a little above the level of the doorknob. She gave
a start when she saw him. "Is Ona here?" he cried, breathlessly.

"Yes," was the answer, "she's here."

"How--" Jurgis began, and then stopped short, clutching convulsively at
the side of the door. From somewhere within the house had come a sudden
cry, a wild, horrible scream of anguish. And the voice was Ona's. For a
moment Jurgis stood half-paralyzed with fright; then he bounded past the
old woman and into the room.

It was Aniele's kitchen, and huddled round the stove were half a dozen
women, pale and frightened. One of them started to her feet as Jurgis
entered; she was haggard and frightfully thin, with one arm tied up in
bandages--he hardly realized that it was Marija. He looked first for
Ona; then, not seeing her, he stared at the women, expecting them to
speak. But they sat dumb, gazing back at