“I’ve brought you a custard and some cakes,” continued her niece, at the same time flicking bits of dust from the dressing table with her handkerchief and setting the pillows of the chaise longue in order with a series of efficient pats. “There’s going to be trouble ... real trouble before long. The strikers are getting bolder.”
“They’re getting more hungry too, Irene says,” replied the old woman. “Perhaps that’s why.”
Cousin Hattie came over to the bed now and sat herself down, at the same time taking out a pillow-case which she set herself to hemming. “You know what they’re saying in the Town,” she remarked. “They’re saying that Irene is helping the strike by giving the strikers money.”
To this the old woman made no reply and Cousin Hattie continued. “I don’t see the sense in that. The sooner every one gets to work, the better. It isn’t safe in Halsted street any longer. I’m surprised at Irene helping those foreigners against the Harrisons. I didn’t think she had the spirit to take sides in a case like this.”
Julia Shane moved her weary body into a more comfortable position. “She doesn’t take sides. She only wants to help the women and children.... I suppose she’s right after all.... They are like the rest of us.”
At this Cousin Hattie gave a grunt of indignation. “They didn’t have to come to this country. I’m sure nobody wants ’em.”
“The Mills want them,” said her aunt. “The Mills want them and the Mills want more and more all the time.”
“But I don’t see why we have to suffer because the Mills want foreigners. There ought to be some law against it.”
As though there seemed to be no answer to this, Julia Shane turned on her side and remarked. “I had a letter from Lily to-day.”
Her niece put down the pillow case and regarded her with shining eyes. Her heavy body became alive and vibrant. “What did she say? Was there any news of Ellen? Shall I read it?”