"Isn't it strange," said Judith in amazement. "I've known her all my life. I had no idea she was so interested in this sort of thing." Good smiled. "She doesn't talk much about it, does she?" Mrs. Dodson, speaking with trained eloquence, was laying out a plan of campaign so bold in conception that Judith, acquainted only with the more obvious side of her life, was dumfounded. "If the people who know her uptown could hear her now," she cried, "they'd be stupefied. They'd call her a traitor to her class." "She is a paradox," admitted Good, "but I think this is her truest side." And the prolonged cheering which accompanied the conclusion of her words seemed to indicate that her auditors thought so too. There was a little pause after Mrs. Dodson had finished, and the red-headed young person at the piano resumed her activities. But the delay was only momentary. A slender girl, plainly dressed, apparently not over nineteen years of age, with her arm in a sling, made her way to the front of the platform. "I'm no speaker," she began in a low voice but which penetrated to the farthest part of the hall, "and there ain't many of you as knows me. I'm only a picket. I can't give you union backing like Mr. Casper, and I can't give you money like Mrs. Dodson, and I can't give you ideas like Miss Horgan. All I've got is my two feet and my two hands and my tongue--though my tongue ain't as good as my legs, as the cop that pinched me will tell you. But you've all been thinking and talking about what you was going to do. Now I want to tell you what's being done while you're talking. Look at this--" She pointed to the arm that was in the sling. "This is what the police do. The copper that twisted my arm gets his pay from the taxpayers, but he gets his orders from our bosses. I got this for talkin' to girls as they came out of the stores. I was lucky not to get anythin' worse, as some of the other girls can tell you. I want to tell you girls," she clenched her fist and her voice shrilled, "that the only way you'll get respect out of these capitalists is to _force_ it out of 'em, and a good many of you is goin' to get hurt in the job." "How horrible!" exclaimed Judith softly. "Is that really true?" "Yes," said Good, "it is. I happen to know the case. The doctors say that her arm will probably never be of much use to her again. A detective twisted her wrist for not moving on when she was ordered to. He claimed she kicked him." "And I hope she did!" snapped Judith vindictively. Good smiled quizzically, but before he could say anything the girl on the platform had resumed speaking.