"Don'tcher pick too clean, it's against the rules," one of the women
informed us; and we took the tip and were grateful.
As the afternoon wore along, we realised that living wages could not be
made--by men. Women could pick as much as men, and children could do
almost as well as women; so it was impossible for a man to compete with a
woman and half-a-dozen children. For it is the woman and the half-dozen
children who count as a unit, and by their combined capacity determine
the unit's pay.
"I say, matey, I'm beastly hungry," said I to Bert. We had not had any
dinner.
"Blimey, but I could eat the 'ops," he replied.
Whereupon we both lamented our negligence in not rearing up a numerous
progeny to help us in this day of need. And in such fashion we whiled
away the time and talked for the edification of our neighbours. We quite
won the sympathy of the pole-puller, a young country yokel, who now and
again emptied a few picked blossoms into our bin, it being part of his
business to gather up the stray clusters torn off in the process of
pulling.
With him we discussed how much we could "sub," and were informed that
while we were being paid a shilling for seven bushels, we could only
"sub," or have advanced to us, a shilling for every twelve bushels.
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