In fancy she saw the women going back to the kitchens, back to the old toil from which they had escaped.
"It's silly, of course," she thoughtfully added, "and wicked, too, to say that men and women are natural enemies. But—the way some of the men act—you'd almost think they believed it…."
She thought of Uncle Stanley and has son. At his own request, Burdon had been transferred to the New York office and Mary seldom saw him, but something told her that he would never forgive her for the morning when he had to go home—"with a sort of a headache."
"And Uncle Stanley, too," she thought, her lip quivering as a wave of loneliness swept over her and left her with a feeling of emptiness. "If I were a man, he wouldn't dare to act as he does. But because I'm a girl, I can almost see him hoping that something will happen to me—"
If that, indeed, was Uncle Stanley's hope, he didn't have to wait much longer.
The armistice was signed, you will remember, in the first week of November, 1918. Two months later Mary showed Judge Cutler the financial statement for the preceding year.
"Another year like this," said the judge, "and, barring strikes and accidents, Spencer & Son will be on its feet again, stronger than ever! My dear girl," he said, rising and holding out his hand, "I must congratulate you!"
Mary arose, too, her hand outstretched, but something in her manner caught the judge's attention.
"What's the matter, Mary?" he asked. "Don't you feel well?"
"Men—women," she said, unsteadily smiling and giving him her hand, "they ought to be—now—natural partners—not—not—"