It is up to us how our country is coming through its period of labor troubles. Are we going to remain human cooties, forcing our fathers and husbands to beat down and rob their employees for the sake of getting money to support us in idle luxury? They, the men of the United States, have given us, their womenfolks, the ballot and Prohibition. Not because they wanted either, but because we, their adored womenfolks, clamored for them. Every profession is open to us, every line of work. What are we going to do with all this wealth of opportunity? Our sister, the working woman, believes in us. She ties her faith to us—her hope for her children and their future. Many, many times I had women of the slums assure me that “rich ladies” fought for suffrage that they might get shorter hours for working women. And even more often they told me that the fight for Prohibition was fought and won by “rich ladies” for the protection of working-people’s homes. During the war we showed them that there was no work we couldn’t do, and wouldn’t do, when it was necessary. During the war through us they realized what work was with the stigma rubbed out—work was a badge of honor, idleness a disgrace. To-day those women stand between us and chaos. A slender cordon of hope, they are holding back the surging multitude of unrest. Their men have ceased to believe in any method of getting justice except by violence. What are we going to do?—measure up to the working-woman’s faith in us, come out of our nests as cooties and, taking our place at her side as we did during the war, do our share of the work. Or are we going to remain human cooties, let that cordon of hope crumble, be swept away? There is one thing as certain as the rising of the sun. If we do not give, it will be taken from us. Were I a girl growing up to-day I would demand of my parents an equal chance with my brother. If he was given his training—for trade or profession—I would have mine—trade or profession. I would insist on my obligations as a citizen, a future voter, to learn the condition and the needs of my country. How can a girl vote intelligently if she spends her days debating on how high she can wear her skirt, or how low she can cut her camisole? That time is passed. We must either keep step with progress or be swept away by the class of women who have learned the lesson that we refused to be taught. Only motherhood—bearing and caring for a living child—should excuse a woman from working for her living. ------------------------------------------------------------------------ Transcriber’s Note Errors deemed most likely to be the printer’s have been corrected, and are noted here. The references are to the page and line in the original. 102.23 It was tastefully furnished and spotless[s]ly Removed. clean. 119.17 the schedule of my work[.] Added. End of Project Gutenberg's Four Years in the Underbrush, by Anonymous