That night she had a dream. No, not a dream, for she could not fall
asleep, and lay with eyes wide open, staring into the impenetrable
darkness.
She beheld how Drabkin was becoming a pot-bellied boss; all his
thoughts were centred only upon how to enlarge his shop and fill
his purse. Everything else was forgotten—every human impulse, every
tinge of sympathy for the poor worker, every spark of compassion for
the under-dog. Workingmen to him were hired slaves—and “Ephraim is
supposed to work till nine o’clock at night and works till half-past
ten; when he came to work this morning at half-past seven, they fell
upon him like a mad dog....”
And in the silent darkness it seemed to her that Drabkin struck a
cruel blow upon the face of a little child who was apprenticed to him.
A shudder ran through her whole body, and she began to weep
hysterically.