Part 25 (1/2)

”As if he didn't know!” she thought, but aloud she answered, ”They're going on strike.”

”What are they striking for?”

”Because I wouldn't discharge those four women.”

He gave her a look that seemed to say, ”You see what you've done--think you could run things. A nice hornet's nest you've stirred up!” At first he turned away as though to go back to his office, but he seemed to think better of it.

”You might as well shut down the whole plant,” he said. ”We can't do anything without the automatics. You know that as well as I do.”

He waited for a time, but she made no answer.

”Shall I tell the rest of the men?” he asked.

”Tell them what, Uncle Stanley?”

”That we're going to shut down till further notice?”

Mary shook her head.

”It would be a pity to do that,” she said, ”because--don't you see?--there wouldn't be anything then for the four women to do.”

At this new evidence of woman's utter inability to deal with large affairs, Uncle Stanley snorted. ”We've got to do something,” said he.

”All right, Uncle,” said Mary, pressing the b.u.t.ton on the side of her desk, ”I'll do the best I can.”

For in the last few minutes a plan had entered her mind--a plan which has probably already presented itself to you.

”When the war was on,” she thought, ”nearly all the work in that room was done by women. I wonder if I couldn't get them back there now--just to show the men what we can do--”

In answer to her ring, Joe knocked and entered, respectful admiration in his eye. You may remember Joe, ”the brightest boy in the office.” In the three years that Mary had known him, he had grown and was now in the transient stage between office boy and clerk--wore garters around his s.h.i.+rt sleeves to keep his cuffs up, feathered his hair in the front, and wore a large black enamel ring with the initial ”J” worked out in ”diamonds.”

”Joe,” she said, ”I want you to bring me the employment cards of all the women who worked here during the war. And send Miss Haskins in, please; I want to write a circular letter.”

She hurried him away with a nod and a quick smile.

”Gee, I wish there was a lion or something out here,” he thought as he hurried through the hall to the outer office, and after he had taken Mary the cards and sent Miss Haskins in, he proudly remarked to the other clerks, ”Maybe they thought she'd faint away and call for the doctor when they went on strike, but, say, she hasn't turned a hair. I'll bet she's up to something, too.”

It wasn't a long letter that Mary sent to the list of names which she gave Miss Haskins, but it had that quiet pull and power which messages have when they come from the heart.

”Oh, I know a lot will come,” said Mrs. Ridge when Mary showed her a copy of it. ”They would come anyhow, Miss Spencer. Most of them never made money like they made it here. They've been away long enough now to miss it and--Ha-ha-a!--Excuse me.” She suddenly checked herself and looked very red and solemn.

”What are you laughing at?” asked Mary.

”I was thinking of my next door neighbour, Mrs. Strauss. She's never through saying that the year she was here was the happiest year of her life; and how she'd like to come back again. She'll be one of the first to come--I know she will. And her husband is one of the strikers--that's the funny part of it!”

Mary smiled herself at that, and she smiled again the next morning when she saw the women coming through the gate.

”Report in your old locker room,” her letter had read, ”and bring your working clothes.”

By nine o'clock more than half the automatic machines were busy, and women were still arriving.