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own home. Suzette was almost buried in debt, owing money to the woman who took care of her daughter. One small remark, and the old hag would shriek at her, "For all you pay, you'd better shut up!" She was already practicing what she would say. "Here is your money! Go choke on it!" and throw the few francs right into the old scoundrel's face. How scandalous that a mother should have no right to complain when she saw her child's face pale as chalk and the tiny limbs bent like warped twigs! If only the strike would be successful, she'd know where to take her little Fifi. And she'd be able to do a few things for herself, too. Now she was beginning to see clearly that Francois was right; she was too thin. What the men liked was a little meat on their women; good food would provide it.

Hopes rose high and ambitions soared. Deep-buried desires came to the surface. Everyone-in his own way-waited and hoped. On Anna's mind was the rent and the increased food expenses, which ate up all her earnings. Now she could hope to save enough money to take a course in nursing, her new dream.

Jacques, the cutter, got into trouble with his latest girl, and he needed money badly. Mary was trying to save money to bring her Janek from Warsaw. Marcel, who carried such a vast load on his frail shoulders, dismissed all hope with a weary, man-of-the-world wave of his hand. "Yes, we've heard all this stuff before," he moped. "But the worker always gets it in the neck."

Pierre nursed his own hopes, but he confided them to no one. So the girls made up their minds for him that he must get a new beret and new trousers to replace his shiny ones.

Hope lightened their hearts-and pockets. Then when their pockets were empty, the great news came. Victory! The strike was won.