"No'm. He referred them to you."
"All right, Joe. Send them in, please."
The committee filed in and Archey noted that they were still wearing their street clothes. "Looks bad," he told himself.
There were three men, two of them strangers to Mary, but the third she recognized as one of the teachers in her old "school"—a thoughtful looking man well past middle age, with a long grey moustache and reflective eyes. "Mr. Edsol, isn't it?" she asked.
"Yes'm," he solemnly replied. "That's me."
She looked at the other two. The first had the alert glance and actions which generally mark the orator, the second was a dark, heavy man who never once stopped frowning.
"Miss Spencer," immediately began the spokesman—he who looked like the orator—"we have been appointed a committee by the automatic shop to tell you that we do not believe in the dilution of labour by women. Unless the four women who are working in our department are laid off at once, the men in our shop will quit."
"Just a moment, please," said Mary, ringing. "Joe, will you please tell
Mr. Woodward, Sr., that I would like to see him?"
"He's just gone out," said Joe.
"Mr. Burdon, then."