At night after the day shift came off work, they came to look at their little companion. A solemn line of little folks with old, old faces, with thin round shoulders, passed before the corpse, crying. They were just little children but death to them was a familiar figure.
"Oh, Maggie," they said, "We wish you'd come back. We're so sorry you got hurted!"
I did not join them in their wish. Maggie was so tired and she just wanted to sleep forever.
I did not stay long in one place. As soon as one showed interest in or sympathy for the children, she was suspected, and laid off. Then, too, the jobs went to grown-ups that could bring children. I left Alabama for South Carolina, working in many mills.
In one mill, I got a day-shift job. On my way to work I met a woman coming home from night work. She had a tiny bundle of a baby in her arms.
"How old is the baby?"
"Three days. I just went back this morning. The boss was good and saved my place."
"When did you leave?"
"The boss was good; he let me off early the night the baby was born."
"What do you do with the baby while you work?"
"Oh, the boss is good and he lets me have a little box with a pillow in it beside the loom.
