snooze his little head off all day? One wonders what to say to the plant manager, Mr. Stump. How do you tell him that twenty men are standing idle on Sub-Assembly Line 3-A because, through a laughable oversight, there is no one to put in a wrist-pin? How do you explain it so he will understand, Mr. Stump?"

Rogers stopped and caught his breath. His face began growing red. He said slowly, "You don't, Mr. Stump. You don't explain it so he will understand. I just tried!"

Ernie swallowed. Hurriedly, he said, "Look I'm sorry. I'll get right in there—"

Rogers smiled. "That would be nice, Mr. Stump. I imagine there are quite a few Sub-Assembly 3-A's stacked up in there by now. You just trot in there and get them cleaned up."

Ernie nodded doubtfully. "You ain't mad?"

Rogers' smile grew broader. "Mad, Mr. Stump? Why, being chewed out by the manager is a trifle. It's something a foreman must expect. It happens to some of them every day—for a while. And when it does, it doesn't matter because in just a little while they are no longer foremen. Sometimes, they aren't even workmen, any more. And then they have nothing at all to worry about, so don't let it concern you, Mr. Stump. Do you take the streetcar to work?"

"Huh? Uh, yeah, I do."

"I thought so." Rogers nodded his head benignly. "Well, just as a suggestion, the next time you see you're going to be late it might be better if you saved your car-fare and used it to buy a newspaper."

Ernie smiled uncertainly. "O.K. Uh, why?"

"Because," Rogers said slowly, no longer smiling, "the next time you leave me in a crack like that, you're going to be reading the 'Help Wanted' section! Now get in there and get to work!"

Ernie did.

He worked the rest of the morning in a sullen mood. For one thing, with the extra time that Rogers had taken up, Sub-Assembly Line 3-A was a mess. Incomplete sub-assemblies were stacked on the floor all around Ernie's spot on the line. He would have to pin them and slip them into the production line as best he could.

Next to him on the line, Broncewicz said: "Ernie, we'll never get this job out. Where were you?"

And Ernie told him about the beef with Rogers. He worked as he talked, but the more he talked the angrier he got. Rogers had been unfair. He asked Broncewicz, "How can anybody do a good job with that guy all the time riding 'em?"

Broncewicz nodded. "You should take it to the union."

Ernie snorted. "That's a hot one. Rogers used to be our shop steward."

"Yeah, I forgot." Broncewicz scratched at a hairy ear. "Anyway, you should tell him off."

"Yeah, I should tell...." Ernie laid aside a wrench to phrase exactly what he wished to say to Rogers, and the next sub-assembly slipped past. Both he and Broncewicz grabbed it hastily.

Unfortunately, Rogers happened to be watching. He walked over. Broncewicz became intently interested in his work. Ernie sighed resignedly.

Rogers seemed surprisingly resigned, himself. All he said was, "I thought you got enough sleep this morning, Stump. Wake up, get on the stick." He walked off.

Broncewicz raised his head. "Hey, I thought you were going to tell him?"

"Aw, shut up."

Ernie did not like his foreman, but neither did he like the prospect of losing his job. He couldn't afford to be out of work.

The noon whistle blew as he was finishing the last of the extra assemblies. Ernie tossed his tools down and left the line.

The sight of the food in the cafeteria reminded him all over again that he was spending too much money. His stomach had felt queasy. It now turned sour. Without looking at them, Ernie selected a plate of frankfurters and spaghetti, picked up a carton of milk for the sake of his stomach, and sat down at the nearest table.

Jory sat down beside him. "Joe's waving at you," he said, nodding at the cashier at the end of the counter. "You forgot to pay."

"What?" Ernie stomped over to the counter, threw