Part 31 (1/2)
Then in the quiet Sally spoke in a loud, exultant voice.
”I only wanted to tell the girls to strike!”
A sudden electricity charged the air.
”What!” cried Marrin, the vein on his forehead swelling. ”You come in here--”
”To tell the girls to strike,” Sally spoke louder. ”For you've made the men traitors and you've blacklisted Izon.”
Marrin sensed the danger in the shop's quiet.
”For G.o.d's sake,” he cried, ”lower your voice--speak to me--tell me in private--”
”I am,” shrieked Sally. ”I'm telling you I want the girls to strike!”
He turned.
”Come in my private office, quick! I'll talk with you!”
Sally followed his hurried steps.
”Yes, I'll tell you there,” she fairly shrieked, ”that I want the girls to strike!”
Marrin turned.
”Can't you shut up?”
And then Sally wheeled about and spoke to the two hundred.
”Girls! come on out! We'll tie him up! We're not like the men! _We_ won't stand for such things, will we?”
Then, in the stillness, Jewish girls here and there rose from their machines. It was like the appearance of apparitions. How did it come that these girls were more ready than any one could have guessed, and were but waiting the call? More and more arose, and low murmurs spread, words, ”It's about time! I won't slave any more! He had no right to put out Izon! The men are afraid! Mr. Blaine is right!”
Marrin tried to shout:
”I order you to get to work!”
But a tumult drowned his voice, a busy clamor, an exultant jabber of tongues, a rising, a shuffling, a moving about.
Sally marched down the aisle.
”Follow me, girls! We're going to have a union!”
It might have been the Pied Piper of Hamelin whistling up the rats--there was a hurrying, a scurrying, a weird laughter, a blowing about of words, and the two hundred, first swallowing up Sally, crowded the doorway, moved slowly, pushed, shoved, wedged through, and disappeared, thundering, shouting and laughing, down the steps. The two hundred, always so subdued, so easily bossed, so obedient and submissive, had risen and gone.
Marrin looked apoplectic. He rushed over to where the forty-four men were sitting like frightened animals. He spoke to the one nearest him.
”Who was that girl? I've seen her somewhere!”
”She?” the man stammered. ”That's Joe Blaine's girl.”
”_Joe Blaine_!” cried Marrin.