This was the signal for a general laugh.
"They're kiddin' you fer sheddin' yer shoes," explained Mag, who had
laughed louder than anybody. "Greenhorns always do it first thing. By the
time you've stepped on a piece of glass onct or twict, you'll be glad
enough to climb back into 'em."
After a while one of the girls started a song, and one by one the others
joined in. There were numerous verses, and a plaintive refrain that
referred to "the joy that ne'er would come again to you and I."
When no more verses could be thought of, there were stories and doubtful
jokes which sent the girls into fits of wild laughter.
"Oh, cheese it," said Mag after one of these sallies, "You all orter to
behave more before these kids."
"They don't know what we are talkin' about," said a red-haired girl.
"You bet I do," said Nance, with disgust, "but you all give me a sick
headache."
When the foreman made his rounds, figures that had begun to droop were
galvanized into fresh effort. At Mag's bench he paused.
"How are the fillies making it?" he asked, with a familiar hand on the
shoulder of each new girl. Nance's companion dropped her eyes with a
simpering smile, but Nance jerked away indignantly.
The foreman looked at the back of the shining head and frowned.
"You'll have to push up the stroke," he said. "Can't you see you lose
time by changing your position so often? What makes you fidget so?"
Nance set her teeth resolutely and held her tongue.
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