In almost every industry there are small trades of highly skilled men who occupy a favorable strategic position. It is so with "the cutters" in the business of making clothes. Their union was the oldest of all. Practically every man in the country who knew the trade was a member. They could not be replaced by unskilled "scabs." They were in a position to insist that the bosses address them as "Mister." Why should they join forces with these new and penniless unions? What had they to gain by putting their treasury at the disposal of the struggling "buttonhole workers"? Why should the opulent province of New York enter into a union with tiny Delaware or far-away Georgia? In the proposed Congress how could representation be justly distributed? The cutters would not listen to any proposal which did not give them an overwhelming voice in the Council. It is against such cold facts as these that the theory of Industrial Unionism, which had sounded so alluring to Yetta as Longman outlined it, has to make headway. At first Yetta was confused by the conflicting organizations which were struggling for support from the workers. There was the American Federation of Labor, to which Mabel gave her allegiance. Its organizers were practical men, interested first, last, and all the time in shop conditions. Effective in their way, but their cry, "A little less injustice, please," seemed timid to Yetta. Then there was the Socialist party. Their theories were more impressive to her--they went further in their demands and seemed to have a broader vision. But of all the Socialists she knew, Braun was the only one who interested himself actively in the organization of the workers. The rest seemed wholly occupied with political action. There was also the Industrial Workers of the World. They cared very little for either firmly organized unions, which were Mabel's hobby, or for the party in which Isadore put such faith. They placed all their emphasis on the Spirit of Revolt. In a more specific way than the other factions they were out for the Revolution. They appealed strongly to that side of Yetta which was vividly touched by the manifold misery she saw about her, the side of her personality which had struck out blindly at Pick-Axe. She recognized that it had been a blind and dangerous impulse. It was not likely to come again. But this phase of her character, although she feared it, she could not despise. It was not dead, it was only asleep. And she knew that the same thing was present in the hearts of all the down-trodden people--her comrades in the fight for life and liberty. The triangular debate, which she had heard for the first time at Walter's farewell dinner, she heard repeated on all sides. She felt it no longer as an interesting academic discussion, but as the vital problem of the working-class. It was an issue towards which she would have to take a definite attitude.