Part 77 (1/2)

Many young men among the returning force had stout sticks in their hands. Granville Joy was one of them. Andrew, who was quite unarmed, pressed in before Ellen. Granville caught him by the arm and tried to draw him back.

”Look here, Mr. Brewster,” he said, ”you keep in the background a little. I am young and strong, and here are Sargent and Mendon.

You'd better keep back.”

But Ellen, with a spring which was effectual because so utterly uncalculated, was before Granville and her father, and them all. She reasoned it out in a second that she was responsible for the strike, and that she would be in the front of whatever danger there was in consequence. Her slight little figure pa.s.sed them all before they knew what she was doing. She was in the very front of the little returning army. She saw the threatening faces of the pickets; she half turned, and waved an arm of encouragement, like a general in a battle. ”Strike if you want to,” she cried out, in her sweet young voice. ”If you want to kill a girl for going back to work to save herself and her friends from starvation, do it. I am not afraid! But kill me, if you must kill anybody, because I am the one that started the strike. Strike if you want to.”

[Ill.u.s.tration: If you want to kill a girl for going back to work to save herself from starvation, do it!]

The opposing force moved aside with an almost imperceptible motion.

Ellen looked like a beautiful child, her light hair tossed around her rosy face, her eyes full of the daring of perfect confidence.

She in reality did not feel one throb of fear. She pa.s.sed the picket-line, and turned instinctively and marched backward with her blue eyes upon them all. Abby Atkins sprang forward to Ellen's side, with Sargent and Joy and w.i.l.l.y Jones and Andrew. Andrew kept calling to Ellen to come back, but she did not heed him.

The little army was several rods from the pickets before a shot rang out, but that was fired into the air. However, it was followed by a fierce clamor of ”Scab” and a shower of stones, which did little harm. The Lloyds marched on without a word, except from Sadie Peel.

She turned round with a derisive shout.

”Scab yourselves!” she shrieked. ”You da.s.sen't fire at me. You're scabs yourselves, you be!”

”Scabs, scabs!” shouted the men, moving forward.

”Scab yourself!” shouted Sadie Peel.

Abby Atkins caught hold of her arm and shook her violently. ”Shut up, can't you, Sadie Peel,” she said.

”I'll shut up when I get ready, Abby Atkins! I ain't afraid of them if you be. They da.s.sen't hit me. Scab, scab!” the girl yelled back, with a hysteric laugh.

”Don't that girl know anything?” growled a man behind her.

”Shut up, Sadie Peel,” said Abby Atkins.

”I ain't afraid if you be, and I won't shut up till I get ready, for you or anybody else. I'm goin' to have my nea.r.s.eal cape! Hi!”

”I ain't afraid,” said Abby, contemptuously, ”but I've got sense.”

Maria pressed close to Sadie Peel. ”Please do keep still, Sadie,”

she pleaded. ”Let us get into the factory as quietly as we can.

Think, if anybody was hurt.”

”I ain't afraid,” shrieked the girl, with a toss of her red fringe, and she laughed like a parrot. Abby Atkins gripped her arm so fiercely that she made her cry out with pain. ”If you don't keep still!” she said, threateningly.

w.i.l.l.y Jones was walking as near as he could, and he carried his right arm half extended, as if to guard her. Now and then Abby turned and gave him a push backward.

”They won't trouble us girls, and you might as well let us and the men that have sticks go first,” she said in a whisper.

”If you think--” began the young fellow, coloring.

”Oh, I know you ain't afraid,” said Abby, ”but you've got your mother to think of, and there's no use in running into danger.”

The pickets were gradually left behind; they were, in truth, half-hearted. Many of them had worked in Lloyd's, and had small mind to injure their old comrades. They were not averse to a great show of indignation and bl.u.s.ter, but when it came to more they hesitated.