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Updated: June 1, 2025
"So while we're having lunch," she said, "I'll send these women out to find their husbands, and we'll talk to them altogether." It was half past one when Mary entered the rest room with her three visitors and Archey. Nearly all the women had found their men, and they were waiting with evident curiosity. As simply as she could, Mary repeated the plan which she had outlined to the leaders.
Archey Forbes was the next to go. His going marked a curious incident. He had applied for a commission in the engineers, and his record and training being good, it wasn't long before he received the beckoning summons of Mars. Upon the morning of the day when he was to leave New Bethel, he went to the factory to say good-bye. The one he wished to see the most, however, was the first one he missed.
"Oh, Archey don't you think a woman has pride, too?" "Well, you know what I mean. He feels he ought to be doing the work, instead of the woman." "Oh, Archey," she said again. "Can't you begin to see that the average woman has always worked harder than the average man? You ask any of the women at the factory which is the easiest the work they are doing now or the work they used to do."
"Miss Mary's around the factory somewhere," said a stenographer. Another spoke up, a dark girl with a touch of passion in her smile. "I think Mr. Burdon is looking for her, too." Archey missed neither the smile nor the tone and liked neither of them. "He'll get in trouble yet," he thought, "going out with those girls," and his frown grew as he thought of Burdon's daily contact with Mary.
They had found what they were looking for. "Why doesn't it go over?" shouted Archey, jumping out. "Anchored to a tree up the bend, I guess," Paul shouted back. "They must have played her down the stream after dark." Nearly over the dam was a boat painted black and covered with tarpaulin. "The explosive is probably hanging from a chain underneath," thought Paul.
Nearly all the machines were busy the next morning, and new arrivals kept dropping in throughout the day. Mary began to breathe easy, but not for long. "I don't want to be a gloom," reported Archey, "but the lathe hands are trying to get the grinders to walk out. They say the men must stick together, or they'll all lose their jobs." She looked thoughtful at that.
Poor health or inherited weakness may forbid a too close application to studies, while it may be a pure waste of time and money to keep at school a child that will not profit by the advantage offered. It is better to put such a child at work as soon as possible. As says the philosopher of Archey Road: "You may lead a young man to the university, but you cannot make him learn."
He twisted his body, the current helping him, and gained the top of the tarpaulin. Under the spotlight thrown by the car, it was like a scene from some epic drama, staged by the gods for their own amusement man against the elements, courage against the unknown-life against death. "He's feeling for his knife," thought Archey. "He's got it!"
If it had been hot elsewhere, what had it been in Archey Road? The street-car horses reeled in the dust from the tracks. The drivers, leaning over the dash-boards, flogged the brutes with the viciousness of weakness. The piles of coke in the gas-house yards sent up waves of heat like smoke. Even the little girls playing on the sidewalks were flaming pink in color.
The few women who were left in the factory were having things made unpleasant for them: that was what Archey had come to tell her. Their canteen had been stopped; the day nursery discontinued; the nurses discharged.
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