Tale of an indomitable Irish woman who carries on against all odds the business of her stevedore husband.
outside breast-pocket of her ulster protruded a time-book, from which dangled a pencil fastened to a hempen string. Every movement indicated great physical strength, perfect health, and a thorough control of herself and her surroundings. Coupled with this was a dignity and repose unmistakable to those who have watched the handling of large bodies of workingmen by some one leading spirit, master in every tone of the voice and every gesture of the body. The woman gave Babcock a quick glance of interrogation as he entered, and, receiving no answer, forgot him instantly.
"Come, now, ye blatherin' Dagos,"--this time to two Italian shovelers filling the buckets,--" shall I throw one of ye overboard to wake ye up, or will I take a hand meself? Another shovel there--that bucket's not half full"--drawing one hand from her side pocket and pointing with an authoritative gesture, breaking as suddenly into a good-humored laugh over the awkwardness of their movements.
Babcock, with all his curiosity aroused,
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