"But—wait a minute. You can't make money. I mean—it's got to come from somewhere. And if the employers can't give more, I suppose ... they'll take it from the men?" She went on thoughtfully, thinking aloud. "They could level down and pay all alike. Is that the idea?"
Somerfield nodded. "Well—one of them—but there are other methods."
"Let's stick to the first." Jill was logical, true to the broad college training.
It saved her from the common pitfall of feminine minds in argument. She could weigh the various pros and cons free from personalities.
"I suppose most of the men are married?"
"About two-thirds, roughly speaking."
"Then what about their wives and children? If you cut down the wages the husbands earn won't it come pretty hard on them? It seems unfair that the factory women—who are most of them, I suppose, unmarried—should take the bread out of the mouths of their married sisters—and the children."
Somerfield looked annoyed.
"Oh, I don't say that would happen exactly. There are other ways ... But what we want is to see women get decent wages, full value for their work. The employers will have to come forward. If we make a strong stand they're bound to give way..."
"Strikes?" Jill raised her eyebrows. "I thought they ruined the nation's trade? And that women always suffered more—the wives and mothers in these times. Besides..." relentlessly she pursued her way with a child's honest search for knowledge. "I don't really understand ... But, supposing that wages all round are raised, well then the employers—to make a profit—will have to sell at a higher cost. And won't that make living dearer?—in case of food and necessities?"