The Argosy, September 1915 — page 208: what you’re looking at

Machine-transcribed from the original scan — historical spelling and the odd misread are preserved.

422 working at the same job. She was still so much Miss O’Flannaghan that generations of other shirt-waist hands had come and gone—Katies and Lillys and Nellies and Rosies—and not one of them had ever asked Miss O’Flan- naghan if she had a first name. She was presumably in her thirties now, and she was still angular. She wore the same coat, but she appeared to have six elbows instead of four, be- cause long tending of the sewing- machine results in large, crooked wrists. No one had ever thought of won- dering how Miss O’Flannaghan lived on her.three-fifty per. As a matter of fact, she paid one and a half of it for the privilege of sleeping in a dark hall- bedroom and making her tea over a miniature oil-stove. The surplus did not allow for much gaiety. Years ago Miss O’Flannaghan had cherished a mad impulse to take the “L”’ to Clark Street. Later had come a second and even wilder desire to go up to Lincoln Park and see the monkeys, but neither wish had been fulfilled. Miss O’Flannaghan’s track from her hall-bedroom across to Twenty-third Street and the factory, aften ten years of traveling, was beaten hard. A\l- though many energetic young bosses had threatened to lay her off, news of so dire a calamity had never reached her ears, and she still plodded along, and spent half of each day ripping out the mistakes of the day before. It was a cluster of crooked tucks at pres- ent, and she bent over her work with patient, blundering fingers as Maria neared her. “Why, Miss O’Flannaghan, ain't you finished the dozen you had yester- day yet?”’ Maria tripped lightly over to the other side of the room, but as she went Miss O’Flannaghan caught an echo of conversation drifting back. “Dance at Jerry’s to-night. Fifteen cents for lady and gent. Sure I’m goin’; ain’t I got a steady? Well, you just bet!” THE ARGOSY. A warning gong sounded. There was a hasty removal of side-combs to assist in straightening pompadours, a rush for hats and coats, and a sound of giggling as the men overflowed from the packing and cutting rooms. Miss O’Flannaghan folded her work and pinned on her hat with a look of unusual and flerce determination radia- ting from her freckles. Never in all her thirty-odd years had she been able to boast of a steady yet. Miss O’Flan- naghan had decided to go to the dance at Jerry’s. The yard was almost deserted as she came down the stairs. Men and girls were hurrying along the street, or hanging to the straps and platforms of the crowded surface-cars. In the dim distance of the boiler-room door could be seen outlined a figure with a lantern in one hand and a coal shovel in the other. Miss O’Flannaghan felt a cold shiver go down her spine as, instead of going toward the gate, she crossed the yard. Then she suddenly became feverishly warm and trembling as the figure loomed beside her, set down the © lantern, and said pleasantly : “Howdy, Miss O’Flannaghan? Nice night. But ain’t you later than ordinary? ”’ “Yes —no—yes, Edward,” said Miss O’Flannaghan, pulling in mad haste from her pocket of her petticoat a small, flat purse. She counted out two dimes and five pennies, which she held toward him. ‘“ Kd—there’s—the girls said there was a dance at Jerry’s to-night. Only fifteen cents for lady and gent and— and cigars, Edward. I was thinkin’ maybe you'd be afther wantin’ to go.” Eid set down his shovel and looked in amazement at the awkward, stam- mering woman before him, but at last a gleam of intelligence shone in his blue Irish eyes. “Well, now, Miss O’Flannaghan, I ain’t never made no pretense at being much of a socialist, but—”’ With true chivalry his hand closed over the money. EOPMICLOOOKS (C@)