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Such men are a disgrace to the world. Izon's cheeks flushed hot. He looked up. "Shall I write to him that we will not consider his offer, and tell him we refuse to compromise?" There was a silence a little while, and then one of the older men shuffled to his feet. "Tell you what we do we get up a collection for Izon. Then everything will be all right!" Izon's eyes blazed. "Charity? Not for me!
I don't want you to think of me! I want you to think of what this strike means!" Then some one muttered: "We've listened long enough to Izon." And another: "I'm going to work!" "So am I! So am I!" They began to rise, to shamefacedly shamble toward the door. Izon rose to his feet, tried to intercept them, stretched out his arms to them. "For God's sake," he cried, "leave me out, but get something.
He and his wife had come from Russia, where they had been revolutionists. The three men examined the paper closely. "That's what we need," said Izon. "You must let us help to spread it!" Joe added the three to the Stove Circle. He went to Giotto's house with him, up to the sixth floor of a tenement, and met the Italian's neat, dark-eyed wife, and looked in on the three sleeping children.
There were many invaluable practical comments especially on how to get news and what news to get and each member was delegated to see to one department. Latsky and Giotto took immigration, Dunan took politics and the Irish, Heming took the East Side, Izon, foreign news, and Sally Heffer took workwomen.
The rest followed. Izon reported to Joe, and Joe asked: "Do you think they'll fight it out?" "I don't know!" Izon shrugged his shoulders. This doubt was justifiable, for he soon found that he was leading a forlorn hope.
"And Marrin " Joe felt himself getting hot. "Has given the job to us men." "How many are there?" "Forty-five." "And the women?" "They're busy on shirtwaists." "And what did the men do?" "As they were told." "So you fellows are cutting under the strikers you're scabs." Izon clutched the chair harder. "I told them so I said, 'For God's sake, be men strike, if this isn't stopped."
There's a good fellow. And everything will be all right!" And he saw Izon out. Joe began again to feel the tragic undercurrents of life, the first time since the dark days following the fire. He came back, and stood brooding, his homely face darkened with sorrow. Sally stood watching him, her pale face flushing, her eyes darting sympathy and daring. "Mr. Joe." "Yes, Miss Sally."
Late that afternoon Joe and Sally were again alone in the office, their lights lit, their pens scratching, working in a sweet unspoken sympathy in the quiet, shadowy place. There was a turning of the knob, and Izon came in. Joe and Sally arose and faced him. He came slowly, his face drawn and haggard. "Joe! Joe!" "What is it?" Joe drew the boy near. "They've gone back the men have gone back!"
"And what did they say?" "They'd think it over!" Sally arose and spoke quietly. "Make them meet here. I'll talk to them!" Izon muttered darkly: "Marrin's a dirty scoundrel!" Joe smote his hands together. "We'll fix him. You get the men down here! You just get the men!"
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.
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