If
ye're out for jumpin' on people, Mrs. Moriarty, begin with Quigg
an' some of the bummers as is runnin' the Union, an' as gits paid
whether the men works or not."
"Bedad, ye're roight," said half a dozen women, the tide turning
suddenly, while the excitement grew and spread, and other women
came in from the several smaller tenements.
"Is the trouble at the brewery?" asked a shrunken-looking woman,
opening a door on the corridor, a faded shawl over her head. She
was a new-comer, and had been in the tenement only a week or
so--not long enough to have the run of the house or to know her
neighbors.
"Yes; at Schwartz's," said Mrs. Todd, stopping opposite her door
on the way to her own rooms. "Your man's got a job there, ain't
he?"
"He has, mum; he's gateman--the fust job in six months. Ye don't
think they'll make him throw it up, do ye, mum?"
"Yes; an' break his head if he don't. Thet's what they did to my
man three years gone, till he had to come in with the gang and pay
'em two dollars a month," replied Mrs. Todd.
"But my man's jined, mum, a month ago; they wouldn't let him work
till he did. Won't ye come in an' set down? It's a poor place we
have--we've been so long without work, an' my girl's laid off with
a cough. She's been a-workin' at the box-factory.
Pages:
69
70
71
72
73
74
75
76
77
78
79
80
81
82
83
84
85
86
87
88
89
90
91
92
93