Mary looked up at the pictures of her forbears who seemed to be listening attentively for her answer. "Please tell the men that I shall be sorry--very sorry--to see them go," she said at last, "but these four women are certainly going to stay." CHAPTER XXIV From one of the windows of Mary's office, she could see the factory gate. "If they do go on strike," she thought, "I shall see them walk out." She didn't have to watch long. First in groups of twos and threes, and then thick and fast, the men appeared, their lunch boxes under their arms, all making for the gate. Some were arguing, some were joking, others looked serious. It struck Mary that perhaps these latter were wondering what they would tell their wives. "I don't envy them the explanation," she half smiled to herself. But her smile was short-lived. In the hallway she heard a step and, turning, she saw Uncle Stanley looking at her. "What's the matter with those men who are going out?" he asked. "As if he didn't know!" she thought, but aloud she answered, "They're going on strike." "What are they striking for?" "Because I wouldn't discharge those four women." He gave her a look that seemed to say, "You see what you've done--think you could run things. A nice hornet's nest you've stirred up!" At first he turned away as though to go back to his office, but he seemed to think better of it. "You might as well shut down the whole plant," he said. "We can't do anything without the automatics. You know that as well as I do." He waited for a time, but she made no answer. "Shall I tell the rest of the men?" he asked. "Tell them what, Uncle Stanley?" "That we're going to shut down till further notice?" Mary shook her head. "It would be a pity to do that," she said, "because--don't you see?--there wouldn't be anything then for the four women to do." At this new evidence of woman's utter inability to deal with large affairs, Uncle Stanley snorted. "We've got to do something," said he. "All right, Uncle," said Mary, pressing the button on the side of her desk, "I'll do the best I can." For in the last few minutes a plan had entered her mind--a plan which has probably already presented itself to you. "When the war was on," she thought, "nearly all the work in that room was done by women. I wonder if I couldn't get them back there now--just to show the men what we can do--" In answer to her ring, Joe knocked and entered, respectful admiration in his eye. You may remember Joe, "the brightest boy in the office." In the three years that Mary had known him, he had grown and was now in the transient stage between office boy and clerk--wore garters around his shirt sleeves to keep his cuffs up, feathered his hair in the front, and wore a large black enamel ring with the initial "J" worked out in "diamonds."