The midnight gong and the noise of the women shuffling out into the courtyard drowned that conversation for E. Eliot. She stood and watched the gatekeeper saunter indoors, not waiting for the man who relieved him on duty. She watched Genevieve go forward and meet the factory hands.
The newcomer shyly spoke to the first group. The eavesdropper could not hear what she said. But the crowd gathered about the speaker, shuffling, chaffing, finally listening. Somebody captured the gatekeeper's stool and Geneviève stood on it.
"What I want to tell you is how beautiful it is for women to stand together and work together to make the world better," she began.
"Say, what is your job?" demanded a girl, suspicious of the soft voice and modulated speech.
"Well, I—I only keep house now. But I intend to begin to do a great deal for the community, for all of you——" "She keeps house—poor little overworked thing!"
"But the point is, not what you do, but the spirit you do it in——"
"What is this, a revival meetin'?"
"So I want to tell you what the women of this town mean to do."
"Hear! Hear! Listen at the suffragette!"
"First, we mean to clean up the Kentwood district. You all know how awful those cottages are."