of her own sort, who were willing to toady to her and flatter her; and these would carry tales about the rest, and so the furies were unchained in the place.  Worse than this, the woman lived in a bawdyhouse downtown, with a coarse, red-faced Irishman named Connor, who was the boss of the loading-gang outside, and would make free with the girls as they went to and from their work.  In the slack seasons some of them would go with Miss Henderson to this house downtown—­in fact, it would not be too much to say that she managed her department at Brown’s in conjunction with it.  Sometimes women from the house would be given places alongside of decent girls, and after other decent girls had been turned off to make room for them.  When you worked in this woman’s department the house downtown was never out of your thoughts all day—­there were always whiffs of it to be caught, like the odor of the Packingtown rendering plants at night, when the wind shifted suddenly.  There would be stories about it going the rounds; the girls opposite you would be telling them and winking at you.  In such a place Ona would not have stayed a day, but for starvation; and, as it was, she was never sure that she could stay the next day.  She understood now that the real reason that Miss Henderson hated her was that she was a decent married girl; and she knew that the talebearers and the toadies hated her for the same reason, and were doing their best to make her life miserable.

But there was no place a girl could go in Packingtown, if she was particular about things of this sort; there was no place in it where a prostitute could not get along better than a decent girl.  Here was a population, low-class and mostly foreign, hanging always on the verge of starvation, and dependent for its opportunities of life upon the whim of men every bit as brutal and unscrupulous as the old-time slave drivers; under such circumstances immorality was exactly as inevitable, and as prevalent, as it was under the system of chattel slavery.  Things that were quite unspeakable went on there in the packing houses all the time, and were taken for granted by everybody; only they did not show, as in the old slavery times, because there was no difference in color between master and slave.

One morning Ona stayed home, and Jurgis had the man-doctor, according to his whim, and she was safely delivered of a fine baby.  It was an enormous big boy, and Ona was such a tiny creature herself, that it seemed quite incredible.  Jurgis would stand and gaze at the stranger by the hour, unable to believe that it had really happened.