nine o'clock
She was proud of her cushion full of strong needles and her spool of coarse thread . She was pleased with the nods of approval gentle Mrs. Lavinski gave her work in passing , and of the slight interest with which she was regarded by the other workers . But as the hours wore on , and the air became hotter and closer , and no enlivening conversation came to relieve the strain , her interest began to wane . By nine o'clock her hands were sore and stained , and her back ached . By a quarter past , the buttons were slipping through her fingers , and she could not see to thread her needle . `` You vill do better to-morrow night , '' said Mrs. Lavinski kindly , in her wheezing voice . `` I tell Ikey you do verra good . ''