The place was poorly lighted and badly ventilated, and there were fully two hundred women and girls crowding and jostling each other while they hung up their wraps and put on false sleeves and black aprons. 

 For a while the din was confusing, but Faith soon began to see and hear distinctly. 

 She was amazed and then horrified at the snatches of conversation she heard. Even a little cash girl used language that was almost profanity, and others made remarks of a most heartless nature. 

 Here and there Faith saw a face that looked different from the rest. They were mostly pale, pinched faces, bearing deep lines of care, but they all looked stolid, hardened and indifferent. 

 "I suppose it's the hard work and worry," whispered Faith, involuntarily. Just then she felt some one tapping her smartly on the shoulder. 

 She turned quickly and confronted a woman about her own height, who had the sharpest pair of eyes that Faith ever remembered seeing. 

 "Is this Faith Marvin?" 

 The woman spoke softly, but her voice was cold and metallic. 

 "It is," answered Faith. "I was told to come this morning. Can you give me any information as to where I am to go? I see the others are all hurrying upstairs, but there is no one to direct me." 

 The woman had not taken her eyes from Faith's face while the young girl was talking. She seemed to be scanning her features with more than ordinary curiosity. 

 "Where do you live?" 

 The question was asked by the woman in a business-like manner, but as Faith hesitated before answering the sharp eyes twinkled a little. 

 "Am I obliged to give my address?" asked Faith very slowly. 

 "Certainly—it's the rule of the house." 

 The woman frowned as she answered. 

 Faith gave her address in a faltering voice. She had hoped to be able to keep that a secret. 

 The woman wrote down the address on a piece of paper. 

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