Yetta could not find an answer.
But the effort to solve such problems as this was a big factor in her mental development. It gave her added incentive to study. She sought learning not because "culture" is conventionally considered a good thing, but because she had a vital need for a wider knowledge in her daily life.
As Walter had foretold, she found constant temptation to neglect her study. She resisted it bravely. But when the "knee-pant operatives," whom she had organized, went out, she could not find heart for books. She gave all her time to the strike. It was only a three weeks' interruption. But the next year the buttonhole workers were out for two solid months, the hottest of the year—and lost. It was Yetta's first defeat. The last weeks had been a nightmare. Children had died of hunger. Some older women had hanged themselves. When at last it was over, Yetta dragged herself up to the Woman's Trade Union League and wrote out her resignation.
"What on earth do you mean?" Mabel asked.
"Oh! I'm no good. I can't ever go down on the East Side again. I might see one of them. It's all my fault. I called them out. I promised them so much."
The moment Yetta had left the office Mabel telephoned to Mrs. Karner at her country home at Cos-Cob-on-the-Sound.
Yetta had followed Walter's advice in regard to Mrs. Karner, and a real friendship had grown up between them. Mabel did not understand why this blasé society woman, with her carefully groomed flippancy, cared for the very serious-minded young Jewess, but she knew that they frequently lunched together. So she told Mrs. Karner over the telephone how Yetta had broken down.
On the window-seat of her room, Yetta cried herself to sleep,—the troubled, haunted sleep of pure exhaustion. She was waked at last from her nightmare by a pounding on her door. It was Mrs. Karner.
"You poor youngster! I dropped into the office a moment ago to sign some papers for Mabel and she told me about your resignation. I'm so glad! Now you haven't any excuse not to visit me. I'm lonely out at Cos-Cob. The motor's at the door. Put on your hat."