"Let them go back to their taters," some one called out.
"Oirishmen are as good as ye are!" The accent was so unmistakable that a general laugh went up. But it did good.
"Of course they are," replied Phebe, "and sometimes a bit better, and it is for them I want to plead. If I take any sides at all it will not be for the rich"—a big cheer, and much clapping of hands—"but for the poor and unfortunate. Those men come expecting work; if Mr. Black agrees to your terms you ought to be willing to stretch out a willing hand to those Irishmen. You all know Mr. Black has made an error in his calculations"—cries of dissent—"hear me to the end and I am sure you will agree with me."
"We'll make them listen," called out a strong voice, followed by several others. "That we will!"
"No, friends," Phebe calmly answered, "I will only have a willing audience."
"You have! You have!" they all called out.
"I am going to ask Mr. Black to give you fifteenpence for that extra hour, on condition that you are willing to work 'shifts' with these Irishmen. Couldn't you manage that?"
"No," said Ford, "the days are not long enough."
"Well, what could you suggest that would show that you were willing to do the brother's part by these men, and also show Mr. Black that the English working-man was willing to do as he would be done by?"
Then there followed several little speeches of the usual Socialistic strain, to which Phebe replied: "Yes, I sympathise with you there, but those questions are out of order at this gathering. We must be practical."