"And after all I don't see why such a woman isn't better off than Mary Lord," said Susan later to Billy, "so much nearer the center of things! Of course," she told him that afternoon, "I ought to go home today. But I'm too interested. I simply can't! What happens next?"
"Oh, waiting," he said wearily. "We have a mass meeting this afternoon. But there's nothing to do but wait!"
Waiting was indeed the order of the day. The whole colony waited. It grew hotter and hotter; flies buzzed in and out of the open doorways, children fretted and shouted in the shade. Susan had seen no drinking the night before; but now she saw more than one tragedy. The meeting at three o'clock ended in a more grim determination than ever; the men began to seem ugly. Sunset brought a hundred odors of food, and unbearable heat.
"I've got to walk some of this off," said Billy, restlessly, just before dark. "Come on up and see the cabbage gardens!"
Susan pinned on her wide hat, joined him in silence, and still in silence they threaded the path that led through various dooryards and across vacant lots, and took a rising road toward the hills.
The stillness and soft dusk were very pleasant to Susan; she could find a beauty in carrot-tops and beet greens, and grew quite rapturous over a cow.
"Doesn't the darling look comfortable and countryish, Bill?"
Billy interrupted his musing to give her an absent smile. They sat down on a pile of lumber, and watched the summer moon rise gloriously over the hills.
"Doesn't it seem FUNNY to you that we're right in the middle of a strike, Bill?" Susan asked childishly.
"Funny--! Oh, Lord!"