s, Doc, she's been a mother to the whole
Valley--when I got up I found I was the twentieth woman up and down the
Valley she'd given Lila's little things to--just to save our pride when
she thought we would not take 'em any other way. Don't I know--all about
it--and she's still doing it--God bless her, and she's been here every
morning, noon and night since--since--she came with a little beef tea,
or some of her own wine, or a plate of hot toast in her basket--that she
made me eat. Why, if it wasn't for her and Henry and Violet and
Grant--what would God's poor in this Valley do in trouble--I sure
dunno."

There came an unsteady minute, when the Doctor stroked her hand and
piped, "Well, Lida--you folks in the Valley don't get half the fun out
of it that the others get. It's pie for them."

The woman folded her hands in her lap and sighed deeply. "Doc Jim," she
began, "eight times I've brought life into this world. The three that
went, went because we were poor--because we couldn't buy life for 'em.
They went into the mills and the mines with Dick's muscle. One is at
home, waiting till the wheels get hungry for her. Four I've fed into the
mills that grind up the meat we mothers make." She stared at him wildly
and cried "O God--God, Doc Jim--what justice is there in it? I've been a
kind of brood-mare bearing burden carriers for Dan Sands, who has sold
my blood like cheese in his market. My mother sent three boys to the war
who never came back and I've heard her cry and thank God He'd let her.
But my flesh and blood--the little ones that Dick and me have coddled
and petted and babied--they've been fed into the wheels to make
profits--profits for idlers to squander--profits to lure women to shame
and men to death. That's what I've been giving my body and soul for, Doc
Jim. Little Ben up there has given his legs and his arms--oh, those soft
little arms and the cunning little legs I used to kiss--for what? I'll
tell you--he's given them so that by saving a day's work repairing a
car, some straw boss could make a showing to a superintendent, and the
superintendent could make a record for economy to a president, and a
president could increase dividends--dividends to be spent by idlers. And
idleness makes drunkards who make harlots who make hell--and all my
little boy's arms and legs will go for is for sin and shame."

The Doctor returned to the window and she cried bitterly: "Oh, you know
that's the truth--the God's truth, Doc