"They are still taking it as a sort of a joke," he told her, "but here and there you catch a few who are looking thoughtful--especially those who have wives or daughters working here." That pleased her. The next time the subject was mentioned, Archey brought it up himself. "There was quite a fight on Jay Street yesterday," he said. As Mary knew, Jay Street was the headquarters of the strikers, and suddenly she became all attention. "Those out-of-town agitators are beginning to feel anxious, I guess. Two of them went around yesterday whispering that the women at the factory needed a few good scares, so they'd stay home where they belonged. They tackled Jimmy Kelly, not knowing his wife works here. 'What do you mean: good scares?' he asked. 'Rough stuff,' they told him, on the quiet. 'What do you mean, rough stuff?' he asked them. They whispered something--nobody knows what it was--but they say Jimmy fell on them both like a ton of bricks on two bad eggs. 'Try a little rough stuff, yourself,' he said, 'and maybe you'll stay home where you belong.'" Mary's eyes shone. It may be that blood called to blood, for if you remember one of those Josiah Spencers on the walls had married a Mary McMillan. "It's things like that," she said, "that sometimes make me wish I was a man," and straightway went and interviewed Mrs. James Kelly, and gave her a message of thanks to be conveyed to her double-fisted husband. The next week Mary didn't have to ask Archey what the men were doing, because one of the Sunday papers had made a special story of the subject. Some of the men were getting work elsewhere, she read. Others were on holidays, or visiting friends out of town. Some were grumpy, some were merry, one had been caught red-handed--or at least blue-aproned--cooking his own dinner. All who could be reached had been asked how they thought the strike would end, and the reply which I am quoting is typical of many. "They may bungle through with a few bearings for a while," said Mr. Reisinger, "but they won't last long. It stands to reason that a woman can't do man's work and get away with it." Mary was walking through the factory the next day when she heard two women discussing that article. "I told Sam Reisinger what I thought about him last night," said the younger. "He was over to our house for supper. "'So it stands to reason, does it?' I said to him, 'that a woman can't do a man's work and get away with it? Well, I like your nerve! What do you understand by a man's work?' I said to him. "'Do you think she ought to have all the meanest, hardest work in the world, and get paid nothing for it, working from the time she gets up in the morning till she goes to bed at night? Is that your idea of woman's work?' I said to him. 'But any nice, easy job that only has to be worked at four hours in the morning, and four hours in the afternoon, and has a pay envelope attached to it: I suppose you think that's a man's work!' I said to him.