Page:Storm Over Paris.pdf/27

who sells you bread is ready with a pleasant word, where your friends at the factory have nothing but kindness and sympathy for you."

A robin fluttered by and came to rest on the green-painted fence rails. It darted its head forward a few times, sharpening its beak on an iron post, then, catching sight of a small twig, fluttered its wings and flew off with the twig in its beak. Where, Anna wondered. Somewhere into the wide world, into God's green world, to build its nest...Her heart seemed to swell in her breast with its surfeit of joy. Yes, God's grace was everywhere.

                     *  *  *

She came to work late, blaming her tardiness on a bad headache. The shop foreman-and after him the other workers—laughed sarcastically. She sat down at her machine, and felt the foreman's sly eyes digging into her. Though she tried to keep her own eyes averted, she could not help meeting his shrewd grin.

She knew well that her lateness would not pass off without unpleasantness; that Monsieur Masson, the foreman, would never let such a fortunate opportunity slip through his fingers. Everyone in the shop disliked him. He was always nagging at them. Outwardly he was polite and suave, with a fawning smile all over his shiny face, and smooth phrases ready on his lips, phrases which always managed to turn into barbed darts. He had a gift for making it appear that he saw nothing, but at the same time there was no detail that escaped his sharp glance. Let one of the workers do something so trifling as break a needle, and Monsieur Masson was sure to seize every opportunity to keep on reminding him of his clumsiness.

He had a peculiar way of speaking, caressing rather than