She had been in New York for about a year, lodging, or rather sleeping at night, in the tenement kitchen of some distant cousins of hers, practically strangers.  The kitchen opened on an air-shaft, and it was used, not only as a kitchen, but as a dining room and living-room.  For the first four months after her arrival Sarah earned about $5 a week, working from nine and one-half to ten hours a day as a finisher of boys’ trousers.  From this wage she paid $3 a week for her kitchen sleeping space and breakfast and supper.  Luncheon cost her 7 cents a day.  She had been able to buy so very little clothing that she had kept no account of it.  She did her own washing, and walked to work.

She had never had any education until she came to America, and she now attended a night school, in which she was keenly interested.  She was living in this way when her factory closed.

She then searched desperately for employment for two weeks, finding it at last in a cloak factory[20] where she was employed from half past seven in the morning until half past six or seven in the evening, with a respite of only a few minutes at noon for a hasty luncheon.  Her wage was $3 a week.  Working her hardest, she could not keep the wolf from the door, and was obliged to go hungry at luncheon time or fail to pay the full rent for her place to sleep in the kitchen.

Sarah was very naturally unstrung and nervous in this hardness of circumstance and her terror of destitution.  As she told her story, she sobbed and wrung her hands.  In the next six months she had better occupation, however, in spasmodically busy shops, where the hours were shorter than in the cloak factory, and she managed to earn an average wage of $6 a week.  She was then more serene; she said she had “made out good.”

During her six weeks of better pay at $6 a week, however, which so few people would consider “making out good,” she had suffered an especially mean exploitation.

She applied at an underwear factory which constantly advertises, in an East Side Jewish paper, for operatives.  The management told her they would teach her to operate if she would work for them two weeks for nothing and would give them a dollar.  She gave them the dollar; but on the first day in the place, as she received no instructions, and learned through another worker that after her two weeks of work for nothing were over she would not be employed, she came away, losing the dollar she had given to the firm.

Another worker who was distressed by the dull season, and had witnessed unjust impositions, was Katia Markelov, a young operative on corsets.  She was a tiny, grave-looking girl of nineteen, very frail, with smooth black hair, a lovely refinement of manner, and a very sweet smile.  Like many other operatives, she wore glasses.  Katia was a good manager, and an industrious and clever student, a constant attendant at night school.

In the factory where she was employed she earned about $10 a week as a week worker, a skilled worker making an entire corset, after it was cut and before it was trimmed.  But she had only twelve full weeks’ work in the year; for two and a half months she was entirely idle, and for the remaining six and a half months she worked from two to five days a week.  Her income for the year had been about $346.