All those men, and back of every man, a woman.
Jackson had stopped. Joey was regarding him with stealthy admiration, and holding his breast bone very high. Already in his mind Joey was a soldier.
“You did not say in your note why you wanted to see me, Mr. Spencer.”
He roused himself with a visible effort.
“I sent for you, yes,” he said. “I sent—I'll tell you why I sent for you, Jackson. I've been meaning to do it for several weeks. Now that this has come I'm more than glad I did so. You can't keep your family on what you are getting. That's certain.”
“My wife is going to help me, sir. The boy will soon be weaned. Then she intends to get a position. She was a milliner when we were married.”
“But—Great Scott! She ought not to leave a child as young as that.”
Jackson smiled.
“She's going to fix that, all right. She wants to do it. And we're all right so far I had saved a little.”
Then there were women like that! Women who would not only let their men go to war, but who would leave their homes and enter the struggle for bread, to help them do it.