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group。 She was a born mimic； audacious； agile； and with the gift of
burlesque。 The autumn that Angie Hatton came home from Europe
wearing the first tight skirt that Chippewa had ever seen； Tessie gave an
imitation of that advanced young woman's progress down Grand Avenue
in this restricting garment。 The thing was cruel in its fidelity； though
containing just enough exaggeration to make it artistic。 She followed it
up by imitating the stricken look on the face of Mattie Haynes； cloak…and…
suit buyer at Megan's； who； having just returned from the East with what
she considered the most fashionable of the new fall styles； now beheld
Angie Hatton in the garb that was the last echo of the last cry in Paris
modesand no model in Mattie's newly selected stock bore even the
remotest resemblance to it。
You would know from this that Tessie was not a particularly deft
worker。 Her big…knuckled fingers were cleverer at turning out a blouse
or retrimming a hat。 Hers were what are known as handy hands； but not
sensitive。 It takes a light and facile set of fingers to fit pallet and arbor
and fork together： close work and tedious。 Seated on low benches along
the tables； their chins almost level with the table top； the girls worked with
pincers and flame； screwing together the three tiny parts of the watch's
anatomy that were their particular specialty。 Each wore a jeweler's glass
in one eye。 Tessie had worked at the watch factory for three years； and
the pressure of the glass on the eye socket had given her the slightly
hollow… eyed appearance peculiar to experienced watchmakers。 It was
not unbecoming； though； and lent her； somehow； a spiritual look which
made her impudence all the more piquant。
Tessie wasn't always witty； really。 But she had achieved a reputation
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for wit which insured applause for even her feebler efforts。 Nap Ballou；
the foreman； never left the escapement room without a little shiver of
nervous apprehensiona feeling justified by the ripple of suppressed
laughter that went up and down the long tables。 He knew that Tessie
Golden； like a naughty schoolgirl when teacher's back is turned； had
directed one of her sure shafts at him。
Ballou； his face darkling； could easily have punished her。 Tessie
knew it。 But he never did； or would。 She knew that； too。 Her very
insolence and audacity saved her。
〃Someday；〃 Ballou would warn her； 〃you'll get too gay； and then you'll
find yourself looking for a job。〃
〃Go onfire me；〃 retorted Tessie； 〃and I'll meet you in Lancaster〃a
form of wit appreciated only by watchmakers。 For there is a certain type
of watch hand who is as peripatetic as the old…time printer。 Restless；
ne'er…do… well； spendthrift； he wanders from factory to factory through the
chain of watchmaking towns： Springfield； Trenton； Waltham； Lancaster；
Waterbury； Chippewa。 Usually expert； always unreliable； certainly fond
of drink； Nap Ballou was typical of his kind。 The steady worker had a
mingled admiration and contempt for him。 He； in turn； regarded the
other as a stick…in…the…mud。 Nap wore his cap on one side of his curly
head； and drank so evenly and steadily as never to be quite drunk and
never strictly sober。 He had slender； sensitive fingers like an artist's or a
woman's； and he knew the parts of that intricate mechanism known as a
watch from the jewel to the finishing room。 It was said he had a wife or
two。 He was forty… six； good…looking in a dissolute sort of way；
possessing the charm of the wanderer； generous with his money。 It was
known that Tessie's barbs were permitted to prick him without retaliation
because Tessie herself appealed to his errant fancy。
When the other girls teased her about this obvious state of affairs；
something fine and contemptuous welled up in her。 〃Him！ Why； say；
he ought to work in a pickle factory instead of a watchworks。 All he
needs is a little dill and a handful of grape leaves to make him good eatin'
as a relish。〃
And she thought of Chuck Mory； perched on the high seat of the
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American Express truck； hatless； sunburned； stockily muscular； clattering
down Winnebago Street on his way to the depot and the 7：50 train。
Something about the clear simplicity and uprightness of the firm little
figure appealed to Nap Ballou。 He used to regard her curiously with a
long； hard gaze before which she would grow uncomfortable。 〃Think
you'll know me next time you see me？〃 But there was an uneasy feeling
beneath her flip exterior。 Not that there was anything of the beautiful；
persecuted factory girl and villainous foreman about the situation。 Tessie
worked at watchmaking because it was light； pleasant； and well paid。
She could have found another job for the asking。 Her money went for
shoes and blouses and lingerie and silk stockings。 She was forever
buying a vivid necktie for her father and dressing up her protesting mother
in gay colors that went ill with the drab； wrinkled face。 〃If it wasn't for
me； you'd go round looking like one of those Polack women down by the
tracks；〃 Tessie would scold。 〃It's a wonder you don't wear a shawl！〃
That was the Tessie of six months ago； gay； carefree； holding the reins
of her life in her own two capable hands。 Three nights a week； and
Sunday； she saw Chuck Mory。 When she went downtown on Saturday
night it was frankly to meet Chuck； who was waiting for her on
Schroeder's drugstore corner。 He knew it； and she knew it。 Yet they
always went through a little ceremony。 She and Cora； turning into Grand
from Winnebago Street； would make for the post office。 Then down the
length of Grand with a leaping glance at Schroeder's corner before they
reached it。 Yes； there they were； very clean…shaven； clean…shirted； slick…
looking。 Tessie would have known Chuck's blond head among a
thousand。 An air of studied hauteur and indifference as they approached
the corner。 Heads turned the other way。 A low whistle from the boys。
〃Oh； how do！〃
〃Good evening！〃
Both greetings done with careful surprise。 Then on down the street。
On the way back you took the inside of the walk； and your hauteur was
now stony to the point of insult。 Schroeder's corner simply did not exist。
On as far as Megan's； which you entered and inspected； up one brightly
lighted aisle and down the next。 At the dress…goods counter there was a
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neat little stack of pamphlets entitled 〃In the World of Fashion。〃 You
took one and sauntered out leisurely。 Down Winnebago Street now；
homeward bound； talking animatedly and seemingly unconscious of quick
footsteps sounding nearer and nearer。 Just past the Burke House； where
the residential district began； and where the trees cast their kindly shadows：
〃Can I see you home？〃 A hand slipped through her arm； a little tingling
thrill。
〃Oh； why； how do； Chuck！ Hello； Scotty。 Sure； if you're going our
way。〃
At every turn Chuck left her side and dashed around behind her in
order to place himself at her right again； according to the rigid rule of
Chippewa etiquette。 He took her arm only at street crossings until they
reached the tracks； which perilous spot seemed to justi