"What for?"
"To press for that boycott. Headquarters put them off last time, but there are so many men out of work now at other factories that they hope to get a favourable decision."
"I'll see Judge Cutler in the morning," promised Mary, and noticing
Archey's expression, she said, "Don't worry. I'm not the least alarmed."
"What bothers me," he said, "is to have this thing hanging over all the time. It's like old What's-his-name who had the sword hanging over his head by a single hair all through the dinner."
The sword didn't seem to bother Mary, though. That comparative table had given her another idea—an idea that was part plan and part pride. When she reached the office in the morning she telephoned Judge Cutler and Uncle Stanley.
"A directors' meeting—something important," she told them both; and after another talk with the accountant she began writing another of her advertisements. She was finishing this when Judge Cutler appeared. A minute later Uncle Stanley followed him.
Lately Uncle Stanley had been making his headquarters at the bank—his attitude toward the factory being one of scornful amusement.
"Women mechanics!" he sometimes scoffed to visitors at the bank. "Women foremen! Women presidents! By Judas, I'm beginning to think Old Ned himself is a woman—the sort of mischief he's raising lately!… Something's bound to crack before long, though."
In that last sentence you have the picture of Uncle Stanley. Even as Mr. Micawber was always waiting for something to turn up, so Uncle Stanley was always waiting for something to go wrong.
Mary opened the meeting by showing the accountants' report and then reading her proposed advertisement. If you had been there, I think you would have seen the gleam of satisfaction in Uncle Stanley's eye.