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"So, that's it!" he snapped. "Well, here's my answer. Go back to your work!" The men had stopped working and were listening. The air was electric, ominous. Izon spoke tremblingly. "I am very sorry then. I must announce that the men have struck!" Marrin glared at him. "Very well! And get out quick!" He turned and walked away, flaming with rage.
Then a man shouted: "Shall a woman tell us what to do?" and tumult broke loose, angry arguments, words flying. The air seemed to tingle with excitement, expectation, and that sharp feeling of human crisis. Joe could feel the circle of human nature fighting about him. He leaned forward, strangely shaken. Izon had arisen, and was trying to speak.
If, however, you listen to advice calculated to ruin your future, and do not return, please remember that I will not be responsible. I shall then secure new men, and your places will be occupied by others. Yours faithfully, P.S. Naturally, it is understood that under no circumstance will your leader Jacob Izon the cause of this trouble between us be re-employed.
He sank exhausted on his chair, crumpled up. Sweat was running down his white face. There was a moment's hush snuffling, and a few coarse sobs and then a young man arose, and spoke in trembling voice: "I move we send Jacob Izon to-morrow to our boss and tell him either no cloaks, or we strike!" "Second! Second!" Joe put the motion. "All in favor, say aye." There was a wild shout of ayes.
Don't go back like this! Get something! Don't you see that Marrin is ready to give in? Are you going back like weak slaves?" They did not heed him; but one old man paused and put a hand on his shoulder. "This will teach you not to be so rash next time. You will learn yet." And they were gone. Izon was dazed, heart-broken. He hurried home to his wife and wept upon her shoulder.
"Gone back?" cried Joe. "Read this letter!" Joe read it, and spoke angrily. "Then I'll do something!" Izon pleaded with him. "Be careful, Joe don't do anything foolish for my sake. I'll get along " "But your wife! How does she take it?" Izon's face brightened. "Oh, she's a Comrade! That's why I married her!" "Good!" said Joe. "Then I'll go ahead. I'll speak my mind!"
"I'm ready for anything." "Well, Mr. Blaine, I'm the employer of one of your men. You know Jacob Izon?" "Oh, you're Mr. Marrin! Sit down." Marrin gazed about. "Unique! unique!" He sat down, and pulled off his gloves. "I've been wanting to meet you for a long time. Izon's been talking, handing me your paper. It's a delightful little sheet I enjoy it immensely." "You agree with its views?"
And so the Stove Circle was founded with Sally Heffer, Michael Dunan, Oscar Heming, Nathan Latsky, Salvatore Giotto, and Jacob Izon. Its members met together a fortnight later on a cold wintry night. The stove was red-hot, the circle drew about it on their kitchen chairs, and Joe spent the first meeting in going over his plans for the paper.
It's you who are suffering not I. I? I am only having fun." She was not satisfied. "We oughtn't to get others mixed up in our troubles." "It's hard for you, isn't it?" Joe murmured. "Yes." She smiled sadly. "I suppose it isn't right when you are in the struggle to get married. Not right to the children." Joe spoke courageously. "Never you mind, Mrs. Izon but just wait. Wait three four days.
"Marrin? Why, he was here only to-day!" Izon clutched the back of a chair and leaned over. "Marrin is a dirty scoundrel!" His voice was hoarse with helplessness and passion. Joe rose. "Tell me about this! Put it in a word!" Tears sprang to Izon's eyes. "You know the cloak-makers' strike well! Some manufacturer has asked Marrin to help him out to fill an order of cloaks for him."
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