His mouth seemed to be one long slit extending across his
face, showing one or two stumps sticking in the otherwise toothless
gums, and giving him the appearance of always "grinning."
The women workers' appearance jarred upon Robert. So far women to him
had always been beings of a higher order, because he had always thought
of them as being like his mother. But here they were rough and untidy,
dressed like goblins in dirty torn clothes, with an old dirty sack
hanging from the waist for an overall. Instinctively Robert felt that
this was no place for women. One of them, who worked on the opposite
side of the scree from Robert--a big, strong, heavily-built young woman
of perhaps twenty-five--in moving forward tore her petticoat, which
caught in the machinery, and made a rent right up above her knee.
"Ach, to hell wi' it," she cried in exasperation, as she turned up the
torn petticoat, displaying a leg all covered with coal grime, which
seemed never to have been washed.
"Is that no' awfu'? Damn my soul, I'll hae to gang hame the nicht in my
sark tail," and she laughed loudly at her sally.
"I'll put a pin in it, it'll do till I gang hame," she added, and she
started to pin the torn edges together.
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