"Occupation?"
"Shirtwaist-maker."
"Oh!" he whistled slightly. "Striker?"
"Yes."
"Picketing?"
"Yes."
"Held for Night Court trial. Lock her up, Officer."
Blackness closed over the girl's brain. She thought she was going into hysterics. Her one thought was that she must get help, that she must reach some one who knew her. She burst out:
"I want to telephone."
"To who?"