he forelady spoke roughly.

"You get a permit, or you don't go up."

"Where's the office?"

"In here."

"Thanks for telling me!"

Sally came down, and, as she entered the doorway, the forelady proceeded
up-stairs. Sally delayed a second, until the forelady disappeared around
the bend, and then quickly, quietly she followed, taking the steps two
at a time. The forelady had hardly entered the doorway on the next
landing when Sally was in with her, and treading softly in her
footsteps.

This was the loft, vast, lit by windows east and west, and hung, this
snow-darkened morning, with many glittering lights. Through all the
space girls and women, close together, bent over power-machines which
seemed to race at intolerable speed. There was such a din and clatter,
such a whizzing, thumping racket, that voices or steps would well be
lost. Then suddenly, in the very center of the place, the forelady,
stopping to speak to a girl, while all the girls of the neighborhood
ceased work to listen, thus producing a space of calm--the forelady,
slightly turning and bending, spied Sally.

She came up indignantly.

"Why did you follow me? Go down to the office!"

Many more machines stopped, many more pale faces lifted and watched.

Sally gave a quick glance around, and was a trifle upset by seeing Mr.
Marrin coming straight toward her. He came with his easy, tripping
stride, self-satisfied, red-faced, tastefully dressed, an orchid in his
buttonhole. Sally spoke quickly.

"I was only looking for Mr. Marrin, and here he is!"

As Mr. Marrin came up, more and more machines stopped, as if by
contagion, and the place grew strangely hushed.

The forelady turned to her boss.

"This woman's sneaked in here without a permit!"

Marrin spoke sharply.

"What do you want?"

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 God'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