Then the meeting fell into its regular routine of useless criticism. One desperately earnest Socialist vehemently objected to some of the advertisements which, he said, favored capitalistic enterprise. He was immediately followed by another Comrade who accused the advertising force of rank inefficiency in not securing more of it. A third speaker said it was foolish to waste space on sporting news. The working-class had more serious things to think about. Three or four others at once clamored for the floor. They all told the same story: the men in their shops bought the papers to see how the Giants were coming along in the race for the baseball pennant. They would not buy _The Clarion_ because its athletic news was weak. So it went on as usual--every suggestion was combated by a counterproposal--and so it would have gone on till adjournment, if one of the Executive Committee had not lost heart in the face of this futile criticism and resigned. Wilhelm Stringer jumped up. "Ve haf in our branch a comrade who is one gut newspaper lady. She has vorked mit a big yellow journal. I like to see gut Socialist on the komität, but alzo ve need some gut newspaper man. Und I nominate Comrade Yetta Rayefsky."' No one sought the nomination, for it was a hard and thankless job, so Yetta was elected by acclamation. "Ve vill nearly kill her mit vork. Yes?" Stringer said to Isadore as the meeting broke up. "Do you think she'll accept?" Isadore asked dubiously. "Sure, she vill. It is a gut girl. I haf not as yet asked her, but now I vill write a letter und tell her." He gave the note to Isadore to deliver. Yetta finished her copy about midnight, but finding much detail still needing attention at the strike headquarters, she decided to make a night of it and sleep in Brooklyn with a family of strikers. It was three in the morning before she turned in--too tired to remember with any clearness that her butterfly wings had been broken. More than once during the day she had had to fight against her tears--to struggle against the desire to drop all this work and rush back to Manhattan and Walter. But always at the weak moment some one who was weaker had asked her help. It all had to be fought out again when she woke. She might not have won, if the conviction had not come to her during her sleep that somehow it must all turn out right in the end. When she reached "headquarters" she found so much to do that she had no time to mourn. The first mail brought in more than fifty dollars--the result of her yesterday's story. But better still was the fact that _The Clarion's_ glaring headlines had forced the attention of the regular papers. The strike was receiving wide publicity. There is no other class of evil-doers who so ardently love darkness in their business as "unfair" employers. The bosses had not been much worried by the revolt of their workers, but they did not like to read about it--to have their acquaintances read about it--in their morning papers.