me
for? I ain't sayin' nothin'.

BERTHE. We'd like nothing better than to stay at home. Why don't you
support us there?

CONSTANCE. It's because you don't support us there that you've got to
let us work.

DESCHAUME. We ain't going to.

BERTHE. We won't give in to you.

GIRARD. If you don't, we'll turn the job in.

THERESE. And I tell you that we shall take your places.

DESCHAUME. Rats! You can't do it.

THERESE. We couldn't at one time, that's true. But now we've got the
machines. The machines drove the women from their homes. Up to lately
one had to have a man's strength for the work; now, by just pulling a
lever, a woman can do as much and more than the strongest man. The
machines revenge us.

DESCHAUME. We'll smash the things.

GIRARD. She's right. By God, she's right! It's them machines has done
it. If any one had told my grandfather a time would come when one chap
could keep thousands of spindles running and make hundreds of pairs of
stockings in a day, and yards and yards of woollen stuff, and socks and
shirts and all, why grandfather'd've thought everybody'd have shirts and
socks and comforters and shoes, and there'd be no more hard work and
empty bellies. Curse the damned things! We works longer hours, and
there's just as many bare feet and poor devils shivering for want of
clothes. The machines were to give us everything, blast 'em! The workers
are rotten fools! The damned machines have made nothing but hate between
them that own them and them that work them. They've used up the women
and even the children; and it's all to sell the things they make to
niggers or Chinamen; and maybe we'll have war about it. They've made the
middle classes rich, and they're the starvation of all of us; and after
they've done all that, here are the women, our own women, want to help
'em to best us!

MOTHER BOUGNE. You're right, Girard. When I was a kid, and there was no
machines--leastways, not to speak of--we was all better off. Women
stayed at home, and they'd got enough to do. Why, my old grandmother
used to fetch water from the well and be out pickin' up sticks before it
was light of a mornin'! Yes, and women made their own bread, and did
their washin', and made their bits of things themselves! Now it's
machines for everythin', and they say to us: "Come into the factory and
you'll earn big money." And we come, like silly kids! Why, fancy me,
eight years old, taken out of the village and bunged into a spinnin'