"

"No," he assented, smiling in triumph under cover of darkness, "there
hasn't been anything in the papers. That is," he added, "not in any of
the papers you would be likely to read. _The World_ has had some stuff."
But before they had had time to discuss the question further the car had
reached its destination. Good led the way to a place in the balcony
where they not only had a good view of the platform but could see the
crowd below as well.

A red-headed girl was playing a very much out-of-tune piano and playing
it very badly. But over the music, and almost drowning it was the steady
shuffle of feet, and a rising wave of whispers and laughter as the hall
rapidly filled. The air was heavily odorous and the gas lights flared
garishly, thrusting the stark shabbiness of the hall and its occupants
into high relief. But all that was forgotten in the indefinable emotion
which surcharged the atmosphere. Without knowing exactly why, Judith
felt her throat tighten and her heart thrill. But it was an old story to
Good and he spent his time surreptitiously watching the effect of the
scene upon his companion.

Presently the speakers of the evening filed onto the platform, and one
of them, stepping up to the table, rapped sharply with her gavel. She
was a woman just approaching middle age, very plainly but neatly
dressed, with a face not handsome, but so full of quiet determination as
to make one look twice.

"That's Myra Horgan," whispered Good, "President of the Women's Trade
Union League. She's a wonder."

Miss Horgan, with a few words, introduced the first speaker, one Casper,
of the Building Trades Council. He was a little man with a beaming red
face, and stiff, close-cropped white hair.

"When they talk about women and the right to vote," he began, surveying
the audience with twinkling eyes, "I think of you and what fools you be.
But you're no worse than unorganized men. Do they work us brick-layers
and masons twelve hours a day, nights too? They do not. Do they pay us
six dollars a week? They do not. Do they fire us for having opinions of
our own? They do not. Do they treat us as human beings entitled to the
same respect as themselves? They do, and why? Because we ain't one but
many. If we deal with them as individuals they smash us as you'd smash a
toothpick. But they can't deal with us as individuals. They've got to
deal with us altogether. But one thing remember, my girls. It's a fine
thing to have a union but a