One thing only announces that the hour has reached six in the workshop: not the striking of the clock, but the sudden ceasing of the sewing machines' clatter, when eyes fasten on the hands crawling over the wall clock, and the stilling of the din that begins at half past seven in the morning.

The women workers rise and go to the agent, handing over to him the day's work, counted just as they received it; each pulls her jacket about her, a weary phrase — "See you well" — tottering on her lips, and goes off to her house. All except Wadad, who had to stay an extra hour to finish a private task: she had promised Nadim — her son — a new shirt, one that would make him feel the feast has a face free of the gloom of his ordinary days, and would kindle in his small heart a joy that shows itself but rarely.

In her hands was a blue cloth patterned with white squares, from which she had chosen to make the shirt; she would cut it herself, and do the sewing and fasten its buttons with her own needle and thread, alone.

The agent looked up at her when she did not rise with those who rose, and she told him that she would sew this shirt for her little boy and pay him the price of the cloth... He nodded his head and left her after the cutting, entering it in a ledger with frayed edges.

As for her, she let her gaze drift out of the window and fell to wondering whether to give the garment one pocket or two small pockets; then she decided to make two pockets, roomy enough for some of what Nadim would crave

at the feast. For she meant to be a little more open-handed with her household — first of all, a feast is a feast; and besides, she had drawn her week's pay: 12 liras for six full days, the weekly day off being at her own expense, of course. She intended, once she had finished sewing the shirt, to pass by the market and buy some sweets and a piece of meat, a few oranges and other small things, and to keep back a few liras on which the family would live for a week, until payday came at the end of the second week...

And Wadad fell glum as she remembered that the workshop would close for two days on the occasion of the feast — days that would fly out of her account as well. She longed for the holiday; she wished for it with all her heart, for her house needed some

of her care, and in her soul there was a yearning for the company of her children, whom she scarcely sees: she goes out in the morning and returns in the evening, by which time the girl has surrendered to sleep. As for Nadim, he will be absorbed with his father in memorizing some words from his book, and he may not escape a tweaking of the ear if he errs and says "qir" instead of "bir," or the reverse — even if the word is neither bir nor qir; for she once discovered

that her son reads better than his father. No sooner does she come in than she prepares the supper; she and her husband eat, and Nadim eats with his eyes half asleep...

How she loves this boy; how she hopes that he will grow up, that he will succeed, that he