WORKING WOMAN. P'r'aps _your_ 'omes are all right. P'r'aps you aren't livin', old and young, married and single, in one room. I come from a plyce where many fam'lies 'ave to live like that if they're to go on livin' _at all_. If you don't believe me, come and let me show you! (_She spreads out her lean arms._) Come with me to Canning Town!--come with me to Bromley--come to Poplar and to Bow! No. You won't even _think_ about the overworked women and the underfed children and the 'ovels they live in. And you want that we shouldn't think neither---- A VAGRANT. We'll do the thinkin'. You go 'ome and nuss the byby. WORKING WOMAN. I do nurse my byby! I've nursed seven. What 'ave you done for yours? P'r'aps your children never goes 'ungry, and maybe you're satisfied--though I must say I wouldn't a' thought it from the _look_ o' you. VOICE. Oh, I s'y! WORKING WOMAN. But we women are not satisfied. We don't only want better things for our own children. We want better things for all. _Every_ child is our child. We know in our 'earts we oughtn't to rest till we've mothered 'em every one. VOICE. "Women"--"children"--wot about the _men_? Are _they_ all 'appy? (_Derisive laughter and_ "No! no!" "Not precisely." "'Appy? Lord!") WORKING WOMAN. No, there's lots o' you men I'm sorry for (_Shrill Voice_: "Thanks awfully!"), an' we'll 'elp you if you let us. VOICE. 'Elp us? You tyke the bread out of our mouths. You women are black-leggin' the men! WORKING WOMAN. _W'y_ does any woman tyke less wyges than a man for the same work? Only because we can't get anything better. That's part the reason w'y we're yere to-d'y. Do you reely think we tyke them there low wyges because we got a _lykin'_ for low wyges? No. We're just like you. We want as much as ever we can get. ("'Ear! 'Ear!" _and laughter_.) We got a gryte deal to do with our wyges, we women has. We got the children to think about. And w'en we get our rights, a woman's flesh and blood won't be so much cheaper than a man's that employers can get rich on keepin' you out o' work, and sweatin' us. If you men only could see it, we got the _syme_ cause, and if you 'elped us you'd be 'elpin yerselves. VOICES. "Rot!" "Drivel." OLD NEWSVENDOR. True as gospel! (_She retires against the banner with the others. There is some applause._) A MAN (_patronisingly_). Well, now, that wusn't so bad--fur a woman. ANOTHER. N-naw. _Not fur a woman._ CHAIRMAN (_speaking through this last_). Miss Ernestine Blunt will now address you.