was a big window near where I
worked that looked out on an embankment, and one by one I called the
boys and girls to me, and explained that we must go on a strike. We
oughtn't to work for a man that beat and hollered at us the way Hicks
did. 'Twas the time now to show our strength and get out of this dirty
hole.

"I don't remember my arguments very well. I think they were somewhat
hurried, with one eye on the window and the other on the door where the
ogre might come back. But the children got into the spirit of the thing,
and it was jump out of the window and the strike was on!

"Jules went first. We made him, but he was game for it anyway. And then
the rest of us dropped down the few feet on the grass and away to the
hills at the back of the town.

"Ah, that was a great day! I can see it now! The apple trees were in
blossom and the grass was thick with violets, while in the woods were
frail blue and white flowers. Everything smelled of the sunshine and the
fresh earth, and we little white-faced youngsters swung in the trees,
and picked the flowers, and played tag, and called and shouted to one
another. Some of the boys gathered stones and made a barricade and when
any one from the town came to get us, he was so pelted with rocks that
he beat a quick retreat. So we played on through the long spring day,
while in the spinning-room the spools twirled round and round, and the
cotton tangled and knotted and broke, and enough damage was done to take
days to set right again. It was a great time! But every day must come to
an end, and the sun went down on our day, until at last, tired and rosy
and hungry we turned with lagging and timid steps toward home."

CHAPTER XXIV

When Kathleen ceased speaking there was a little murmur of applause
throughout the room. Every one had been listening--Madame at her desk,
the men at their table, their dominoes dropped from their hands, Marie
in the doorway. Kathleen's own guests had been wholly absorbed. To all,
from this time, child labor would no longer be an academic question but
a vivid reality.

The Major was the first to break the silence. "That was a fine tale," he
said, bowing gravely to the story-teller who sat opposite him, her
cheeks rosy with excitement, one hand drumming the Marseillaise on the
table cloth. "Thank you for letting me hear it."

"I told it for Hertha," Kathleen said pointedly.

"Yes?" The Major looked at the southern girl, not for the first time