At half past ten the old gong sounded in the lathe room, and the old tea wagon began its old-time trundling. In addition to refreshments each woman received a rose-bud—"From Miss Spencer. With thanks and best wishes."
"Do you know if the piano's here yet?" asked a brisk looking matron in sky blue overalls.
"Yep," nodded the tea girl. "When I came through, they were taking the cover off it, and fixing up the rest room."
"Isn't it good to be back again!" said the brisk young matron to her neighbour. "Believe me or not, I haven't seen a dancing floor since I quit work here."
Mrs. Ridge had been appointed forewoman. Just before noon she reported to
Mary.
"There'll be a lot more tomorrow," she said. "When these get home, they'll do nothing but talk about it; and I keep hearing of women who are fixing things up at home so they can come in the morning. So don't you worry, Miss Spencer, this strike isn't going to hurt you none, but—Ha-ha-ha!—Excuse me," she said, suddenly checking her mirth again and looking very red and solemn.
"I like to hear you laugh," said Mary, "but what's it about this time!"
"Mrs. Strauss is here. I told you she would be. She left her husband home to do the housework and today is washday—that's the funny part of it!"
Whatever Mrs. Ridge's ability as a critic of humour might be, at least she was a good prophet. Nearly all the machines were busy the next morning, and new arrivals kept dropping in throughout the day.
Mary began to breathe easy, but not for long.