So there passed another summer.  It was a summer of prosperity, all over the country, and the country ate generously of packing house products, and there was plenty of work for all the family, in spite of the packers’ efforts to keep a superfluity of labor.  They were again able to pay their debts and to begin to save a little sum; but there were one or two sacrifices they considered too heavy to be made for long—­it was too bad that the boys should have to sell papers at their age.  It was utterly useless to caution them and plead with them; quite without knowing it, they were taking on the tone of their new environment.  They were learning to swear in voluble English; they were learning to pick up cigar stumps and smoke them, to pass hours of their time gambling with pennies and dice and cigarette cards; they were learning the location of all the houses of prostitution on the “Levee,” and the names of the “madames” who kept them, and the days when they gave their state banquets, which the police captains and the big politicians all attended.  If a visiting “country customer” were to ask them, they could show him which was “Hinkydink’s” famous saloon, and could even point out to him by name the different gamblers and thugs and “hold-up men” who made the place their headquarters.  And worse yet, the boys were getting out of the habit of coming home at night.  What was the use, they would ask, of wasting time and energy and a possible carfare riding out to the stockyards every night when the weather was pleasant and they could crawl under a truck or into an empty doorway and sleep exactly as well?  So long as they brought home a half dollar for each day, what mattered it when they brought it?  But Jurgis declared that from this to ceasing to come at all would not be a very long step, and so it was decided that Vilimas and Nikalojus should return to school in the fall, and that instead Elzbieta should go out and get some work, her place at home being taken by her younger daughter.

Little Kotrina was like most children of the poor, prematurely made old; she had to take care of her little brother, who was a cripple, and also of the baby; she had to cook the meals and wash the dishes and clean house, and have supper ready when the workers came home in the evening.  She was only thirteen, and small for her age, but she did all this without a murmur; and her mother went out, and after trudging a couple of days about the yards, settled down as a servant of a “sausage machine.”

Elzbieta was used to working, but she found this change a hard one, for the reason that she had to stand motionless upon her feet from seven o’clock in the morning till half-past twelve, and again from one till half-past five.  For the first few days it seemed to her that she could not stand it—­she suffered almost as much as Jurgis had from the fertilizer, and would come out at sundown with her head fairly reeling.  Besides this, she was working in one of the dark holes, by electric light, and the dampness,