We sweated our way through long sizzling weeks at a task that was never done; and many a night, while the students snored in bed, my partner and I toiled on under the electric light at steam mangle or ironing board.
The hours were long, the work was arduous, despite the fact that we became past masters in the art of eliminating waste motion.

And I was receiving thirty dollars a month and board--a slight increase over my coal-shovelling and cannery days, at least to the extent of board, which cost my employer little (we ate in the kitchen), but which was to me the equivalent of twenty dollars a month.

My robuster strength of added years, my increased skill, and all I had learned from the books, were responsible for this increase of twenty dollars.

Judging by my rate of development, I might hope before I died to be a night watchman for sixty dollars a month, or a policeman actually receiving a hundred dollars with pickings.
So relentlessly did my partner and I spring into our work throughout the week that by Saturday night we were frazzled wrecks.

I found myself in the old familiar work-beast condition, toiling longer hours than the horses toiled, thinking scarcely more frequent thoughts than horses think.