She hurried him away with a nod and a quick smile.
"Gee, I wish there was a lion or something out here," he thought as he hurried through the hall to the outer office, and after he had taken Mary the cards and sent Miss Haskins in, he proudly remarked to the other clerks, "Maybe they thought she'd faint away and call for the doctor when they went on strike, but, say, she hasn't turned a hair. I'll bet she's up to something, too."
It wasn't a long letter that Mary sent to the list of names which she gave Miss Haskins, but it had that quiet pull and power which messages have when they come from the heart.
"Oh, I know a lot will come," said Mrs. Ridge when Mary showed her a copy of it. "They would come anyhow, Miss Spencer. Most of them never made money like they made it here. They've been away long enough now to miss it and—Ha-ha-a!—Excuse me." She suddenly checked herself and looked very red and solemn.
"What are you laughing at?" asked Mary.
"I was thinking of my next door neighbour, Mrs. Strauss. She's never through saying that the year she was here was the happiest year of her life; and how she'd like to come back again. She'll be one of the first to come—I know she will. And her husband is one of the strikers—that's the funny part of it!"
Mary smiled herself at that, and she smiled again the next morning when she saw the women coming through the gate.
"Report in your old locker room," her letter had read, "and bring your working clothes."
By nine o'clock more than half the automatic machines were busy, and women were still arriving.
"The canteen's going again," ran the report up and down the aisles.