"If they would only go slowly," she uneasily told herself, "it would be all right. But if they go too fast…"
She made a helpless gesture—again the gesture of those who have started something which they can't stop—but just before she went home that evening she received a telegram which relieved the tension.
"May we confer with you Monday at your office regarding situation at New
Bethel?"
That was the telegram. It was signed by three leaders of labour—the same men, Mary remembered, whom Judge Cutler had seen when he had visited headquarters.
"Splendid men, all of them," she remembered him reporting. "I'm sure you'd like them, Mary."
"Perhaps they'll be able to help," she told herself. "Anyhow, I'm not going to worry any more until I have seen them."
That night, after dinner, two callers appeared at the house on the hill.
The first was Helen.
Dinner was hardly over when Mary saw her smart coupé turn in to the garage. A minute later Helen ran up the steps, a travelling bag in her hand. She kissed her cousin twice, quotation marks of affection which enclosed the whisper, "Do you mind if I stay all night?"
"Of course I don't," said Mary, laughing at her earnestness. "What's the matter? Wally out of town?"