The Nine-Tenths Part 22

"Yes."

Impulsively her hand went out, and he clasped it ... her hand seemed almost frozen. Tears of humility sprang to her eyes.

"I was high and mighty that night,... but I couldn't help it.... But you ... do you realize what a wonderful thing you've done?"

He laughed awkwardly.

"Yes, here's what I've done"--he handed her a copy of _The Nine-Tenths_--"and it's very wonderful."

She gave a strange, short laugh again--excitement, exultation--and held the paper as if it were a living thing.

"This ... _The Nine-Tenths_ ... oh!... for the working people.... Let me see!"

She went to the light, spread the paper and eagerly read. Then she glanced back a moment and saw his worn face and the weary droop of his back.

"Say--you're dead tired. Sit down. You don't mind the bed, do you?"

He smiled softly.

"I don't! I am pretty much done up." And he sank down, and let his hands droop between his knees.

Sally read, and then suddenly turned to him.

"This editorial is--it's just a ripper."

The author felt the thrill of a creator. She went on:

"I wish every working-girl in New York could read this."

"So do I."

She turned and looked at him, more and more excited.

"So _this_ is what you're doing. I must pinch myself--it's all a dream!

Too good to be true."

Suddenly there seemed to be a reversal in their relationships. Before, his end of the beam was down, hers up. But subtly in her voice he felt the swing to the other extreme. She had set him in a realm above herself.

"Tell me," she said, "just how you came to go into this."

He told her a little, and as he spoke he became thoroughly at his ease with her, as if she were a man, and in the pleasure of their swift comradeship they could laugh at each other.

"Mr. Blaine," she said, suddenly, "if I got you into this, it's up to me to help you win. I'm going to turn into an agent for you--I'll make 'em subscribe right and left."

Joe laughed at her.

"Lordy, if you knew how good it is to hear this--after tramping up three miles of stairs and more and nabbing a tawdry twenty subscriptions."

"Is that all you got?"

"People don't understand."

"We'll _make_ them!" cried Sally, clenching her fist.

Joe laughed warmly; he was delighted with her.

"Are you working here?" he asked.

"Yes--you know I used to be in Newark--I was the president of the Newark Hat-Trimmers' Union."

"And now?"

"I'm trying to organize the girls here."

"Well," he muttered, grimly. "I wouldn't like to be your boss, Miss Heffer."

She laughed in her low voice.

"Let me tell you what sort I am!" And she sat down, crossed her legs, and clasped her hands on her raised knee. "I was working in that Newark factory, and the girls told me to ask the boss, Mr. Plump, for a half holiday. So I went into his office and said: 'Mr. Plump, the girls want a half holiday.' He was very angry. He said: 'You won't get it. Mind your own business.' So I said, quietly: 'All right, Mr. Plump, we'll take a _whole_ holiday. We won't show up Monday.' Then he said to me, 'Sally Heffer, go to h.e.l.l!' He was the first man to say such a thing to my face. Well, one of the girls found me in the hall drying my eyes, and when she got the facts she went back and told the others, and the bunch walked out, leaving this message: 'Mr. Plump, we won't come back till you apologize to Sally.' Well, we were out a week, and what do you think?" Sally laughed with quiet joy. "Plump took it to the Manufacturers a.s.sociation, and they--backed him? Not a bit! _Made him apologize_!"

Joe chuckled.

"Great! Great!"

"Oh, I'm doing things all the time," said Sally. "Organized the Jewish hat-trimmers in Newark, and all my friends went back on me for sticking up for the Jews. Did I care? Ten years ago every time the men got a raise through their union, the girls had their salaries cut. Different now. We've enough sense to give the easy jobs to the old ladies--and there's lots of old ones tr.i.m.m.i.n.g hats."

"What's tr.i.m.m.i.n.g hats?"

Sally plucked up Joe's gray hat, and then looked at Joe, her eyes twinkling.

"It's a little hard to show you on this. But see the sweat-band? It has a lot of needle holes in it, and the trimmer has to st.i.tch through those holes and then sew the band on to the hat, and all the odds and ends. It kills eyes. What do you think?" she went on. "The girls used to drink beer--bosses let 'em do it to keep them stimulated--and it's ruined lots. I stopped that."

Joe looked at Sally. And he had a wild impulse then, a crazy thought.

"How much do you get a week?"

"Fifteen."

"Well," said Joe, "I want a woman's department in the paper. Will you handle it for fifteen a week?"

"But you don't know me!"

"Well," said Joe, "I'm willing to gamble on you."

Sally's low voice loosed exultation.

"You're a wonder, Mr. Blaine. I'll _do it_! But we're both plumb crazy."