"But I'm not going where Rachel did," Yetta protested. The old woman did not reply. "Auntie," Yetta went on, "I ain't going wrong. If you ever want to know about me, or if you ever need anything, you ask at the Woman's Trade Union League. Here. I'll write down the address. They'll know where to find me." She tore off a piece of the paper from her bundle and scribbled the address. As her aunt was not looking up, she left it on the table. "Good-by, Rosa," she said. "Good-by, Aunt Martha." Out in the hall she felt faint and dizzy. She had not loved the place nor its inmates. Why did it hurt to go? She leaned against the wall for a moment to regain command of herself. Her little glimpse into the new world had not given her the feeling that she would ever be at home there. Even Columbus had misgivings about his enterprise into the unknown sea. But presently she felt the sharp corner of _Les Miserables_ digging into her side. She had been hugging her little bundle as if it had been a life-preserver. And she found courage to go on down the dark stairs and to meet Mabel and the New Life with something of a smile. BOOK III CHAPTER XIII THE STRIKE It was near midnight when Mabel and Yetta at last turned homeward. They had talked to vest workers from a dozen shops. The article in the _Forwaertz_ had been a stirring one, and probably ninety per cent of the trade had heard of the outbreak in Goldfogle's shop and Braun's prophecy of large consequences. Yetta could not see that much had been accomplished, but Mabel, more accustomed to judging such things, was jubilant. "Yetta, dear," she said, as she kissed her good night, "there's a beautiful French song called '_Ça ira_'--which being interpreted means, 'There'll be something doing'!" All day long the conviction had grown on her that there was promise of big development to the insignificant quarrel between Yetta and her boss. More often than not strikes break out at the most inopportune times for the workers. Sometimes a sudden provocation will drive the men into a premature revolt. Again there will be rumbles of trouble for a long time before the crisis, and when the men walk out, they find the bosses have had ample time to make provision for the fight. But a careful study of the vest-making industry could not have discovered a more favorable moment. The rush season was just drawing to a close. On the one hand, the bosses were straining every nerve to finish their contracts on time. On the other hand, many of the workers would be laid off anyhow when the rush was over. By striking, the less skilled, poorest paid workers risked only a few weeks' pay. And surely they had enough cause to revolt. All those to whom she had talked had told of intolerable speed, pitiful pay, and arbitrary fines, indecent conditions. There was good reason to hope that the whole trade would become involved. And so at bedtime she sang the "_Ça ira_" to Yetta.