The Nine-Tenths Part 31

Then in the quiet Sally spoke in a loud, exultant voice.

"I only wanted to tell the girls to strike!"

A sudden electricity charged the air.

"What!" cried Marrin, the vein on his forehead swelling. "You come in here--"

"To tell the girls to strike," Sally spoke louder. "For you've made the men traitors and you've blacklisted Izon."

Marrin sensed the danger in the shop's quiet.

"For G.o.d's sake," he cried, "lower your voice--speak to me--tell me in private--"

"I am," shrieked Sally. "I'm telling you I want the girls to strike!"

He turned.

"Come in my private office, quick! I'll talk with you!"

Sally followed his hurried steps.

"Yes, I'll tell you there," she fairly shrieked, "that I want the girls to strike!"

Marrin turned.

"Can't you shut up?"

And then Sally wheeled about and spoke to the two hundred.

"Girls! come on out! We'll tie him up! We're not like the men! _We_ won't stand for such things, will we?"

Then, in the stillness, Jewish girls here and there rose from their machines. It was like the appearance of apparitions. How did it come that these girls were more ready than any one could have guessed, and were but waiting the call? More and more arose, and low murmurs spread, words, "It's about time! I won't slave any more! He had no right to put out Izon! The men are afraid! Mr. Blaine is right!"

Marrin tried to shout:

"I order you to get to work!"

But a tumult drowned his voice, a busy clamor, an exultant jabber of tongues, a rising, a shuffling, a moving about.

Sally marched down the aisle.

"Follow me, girls! We're going to have a union!"

It might have been the Pied Piper of Hamelin whistling up the rats--there was a hurrying, a scurrying, a weird laughter, a blowing about of words, and the two hundred, first swallowing up Sally, crowded the doorway, moved slowly, pushed, shoved, wedged through, and disappeared, thundering, shouting and laughing, down the steps. The two hundred, always so subdued, so easily bossed, so obedient and submissive, had risen and gone.

Marrin looked apoplectic. He rushed over to where the forty-four men were sitting like frightened animals. He spoke to the one nearest him.

"Who was that girl? I've seen her somewhere!"

"She?" the man stammered. "That's Joe Blaine's girl."

"_Joe Blaine_!" cried Marrin.

"Look," said the man, handing Marrin a copy of _The Nine-Tenths_, "the girls read this this morning. That's why they struck."

Marrin seized the paper. He saw the t.i.tle:

FORTY-FIVE TREACHEROUS MEN

and he read beneath it:

Theodore Marrin, and the forty-four who went back to work for him: Every one of you is a traitor to American citizenship.

Let us use blunt words and call a spade a spade.

Theodore Marrin, you have betrayed your employees.

And then farther down:

No decent human being would work for such a man.

He has no right to be an employer--not in such hands should be placed the sacred welfare of men and women.

If I were one of Marrin's employees I would prefer the streets to his shop.

Marrin looked up at the forty-four. And he saw that they were more than frightened--they were in an ugly humor, almost ferocious. The article had goaded them into a senseless fury.

Marrin spoke more easily.

"So that's your friend of labor, that's your Joe Blaine. Well, here is what your Joe Blaine has done for you. You're no good to me without the girls. You're all discharged!"

He left them and made madly for the door. The men were chaotic with rage; they arose; their voices went sharp and wild.

"What does that Joe Blaine mean? He takes the bread out of our mouths!

He makes fools of us! He ought to be shot! I spit on him! Curse him!"

One man arose on a chair.

"You fools--you listened to that man, and went on strike--and now you come back, and he makes you lose your jobs. Are you going to be fools now? Are you going to let him get the best of you? He is laughing at you, the pig. The girls are laughing at you. Come on! We will go down and show him--we will a.s.semble before his place and speak to him!"

The men were insane with rage and demon-hate. Vehemently shouting, they made for the stairs, rushed pell-mell down, and sought the street, and turned south through the snow. There were few about to notice them, none to stop them. Policemen were in doorways and odd shelters. And so, unimpeded, the crazed mob made its way.

In the mean time Marrin had come out in his heavy fur coat and stepped into his closed automobile. It went through the storm, easily gliding, turned up West Tenth Street, and stopped before Joe's windows. Marrin hurried in and boldly opened the office door. Billy jumped up to intercept him.

"Mr. Blaine--" he began.

"Get out of my way!" snapped Marrin, and stepped up to Joe.

Joe was brooding at his desk, brooding and writing, his dark face troubled, his big form quite stoop-shouldered.

"Well," said Joe, "what's the matter, Mr. Marrin?"

Marrin tried to contain his rage. He pointed his cane at Joe.