eft of hand and quick of eye; but the more apparent it
became that the third phase of the strike was being lost by the men, the
more worried Archey looked--the oftener he peeped into the future and
frowned at what he saw there.

"The next thing we know," he said to Mary one day, "every man on the
place will walk out, and what are we going to do then?"

She told him of the reporter's suggestion.

"A good idea, too," he said. "If I were you, I'd start advertising in
those other cities right away, and get as many applications on file as
you can. Don't just ask for women workers. Mention the kind you want:
machine tool hands, fixers, tool makers, temperers, finishers,
inspectors, packers--I'll make you up a list. And if you don't mind I'll
enlarge the canteen, and change the loft above it into a big dining room,
and have everything ready this time--"

A few days later Spencer & Son's advertisement appeared for the first
time outside of New Bethel, and soon a steady stream of applications
began to come in.

Although Mary didn't know it, her appeal had a stirring note like the
peal of a silver trumpet. It gripped attention and warmed imagination all
the way from its first line "A CALL TO WOMEN" to its signature, "Josiah
Spencer & Son, Inc. Mary Spencer, President."

"That's the best yet," said Archey, looking at the pile of applications
on the third day. "I sha'n't worry about the future half as much now."

"I don't worry at all any more," said Mary, serene in her faith. "Or at
least I don't worry about this," she added to herself.

She was thinking of Helen again.

The night before Helen had come in late, and Mary soon knew that she had
been with Burdon. Helen was quiet--for her--and rather pale as well.

"Did you have a quarrel?" Mary had hopefully asked.

"Quarrel with Burdon Woodward?" asked Helen, and in a low voice she
answered herself, "I couldn't if I tried."

"... Do you love him, Helen?"

To which after a pause, Helen had answered, much as she had spoken
before, "I only wish he had half of Wally's money...." And would say no
more.

"I have warned her so often," said Mary. "What more can I say?" She
uneasily wondered whether she ought to speak to her aunts, but soon shook
her head at that. "It would only bother them," she told herself, "and
what good could it do?"

Next day at the factory she seemed to feel a shadow around her and a
weight upon her mind.

"What is it?" she thought more than once,