Mrs. Vivian, Scoris and Helen had been living in the colony for two
years before Mira came. Scoris still did drawings for illustrations and
Helen was doing well at writing for magazines and the society paper.
Their apartments were nicely fitted up, each one having one room, while
they shared the parlor together. They had intended to secure one more
room for they often had their meals sent to them when they were
unusually busy, instead of going down to the dining room, but since Mira
and her children arrived they all saw that she must have help.
She couldn’t live in the same apartment building because children were
not allowed there nor were the conveniences the same as in those built
for children. They had tried to persuade her to leave them in the
nursery and for her to live with them, but she couldn’t be separated
from them at night. Jack might come and steal them, she said. “They are
all right in the daytime, but at night I must have them in sight.”
“Poor girl,” her mother had said, “we can do without the extra room and
secure two for her, besides help to provide for the children.”
“Yes, indeed,” Scoris had answered, “this help to her now will be worth
more to her than an extra room to us.”
“Our sympathy without practical help wouldn’t be very cheering,” Helen
said, “and I intend to provide for one of the children until they are
old enough to provide for themselves.”
“And I shall support the other,” Scoris declared.
“She has had her share of punishment for her willfulness,” her mother
remarked, “and the least we can do is to relieve her of some of her
burden. How my heart has yearned to see her all these years, and I am
willing to give up anything to help her. I think Libra will assist her
also, but she must keep herself busy; it is the only thing that will
help her to bear this new trial.”
[Illustration]
One day Scoris and her mother were having a chat by themselves when
Scoris said:
“Mother, do you know that you are constantly spoken of as the mother of
the Vivian family?”
“Well, Scoris, why shouldn’t I be called your mother?”
“Because you are as much to be honored as any one, and if, as is the
custom now among us, you were called ‘The Hon. Mary Vivian,’ that would
settle it without further pretext. Being Tom’s mother is not a personal
honor, but being an honorable woman, you should stand the challenge. We
are all called ‘Honorable’ but you, and naturally we want you to hold
the first rank among our social acquaintances. The title is given so all
may know whom to trust.”
“But, Scoris dear, I am not in any business, so what difference does it
make? I like the old ways that I am accustomed to. The name of Mrs.
Vivian has always designated who I am.”
“Very well, mother, do as you like. We would sooner you were taking the
honors because they, like a uniform, show where each person belongs. In
our old town the name was sufficient, but customs have changed. People
are thinking more deeply than they used to do and it has become
necessary to classify our members so all may know where each stands. The
old families were honored because of their wealth and their influence
and their ability to employ dependent people.”
“Well, my dear, what has this to do with me?”
“The society wishes to honor you because your life has been honorable in
every way. You are a woman of good, sound judgment and are badly needed
in the Council. Only honorable members can sit in the Council and we are
anxious to have an equal number of men and women preside. Only women can
understand all that is in a woman’s life, and they must not shirk from
their duty. Both women’s and children’s interests are involved and until
the members become more accustomed to seeing their interests as fully
recognized as the men, they will suffer. It is the duty of our Council
to define carefully the value of every man, woman and child’s labor, for
there is a mental as well as a physical value to be considered and this
needs fine calculating. Only one just and right way is by the profits
when the products are either sold or exchanged. The profit must be the
value awarded all equally. If a child earns as much as a grown person,
that child must receive the same amount. Mother, you have thought more
deeply than the majority of women and have the faculty of seeing the
point at issue more clearly than most women, or men, either, for that
matter.”
“You know the strawberries were picked by children mostly this year.
Well, do you know those children didn’t get as much as the grownup
people for the same labor?”
“Well, why not?”
“Because some of the Council argued that children’s time was not of as
much value as an adult’s. Now that was not just under this new system,
for it aims to give full value for the labor done, no matter by whom. I
claim that when the berries were sold for the same price as those picked
by adults, that the children had the same right to the profits.”
“So do I. But you know I have never had anything to do with public
affairs and am pretty old to be drawn into it now.”
“There is one thing certain, mother, you cannot start younger, so please
think it over, for you are needed.”
Not long after this Mrs. Vivian heard an old woman and the secretary
counting how much was coming to her from her summer’s work. He looked
over the accounts and told her. Mrs. Vivian thought it was a small
amount. She remembered how hard the poor old soul had worked all summer,
never losing a day and being always ready to do everything. A young man
asked about his account and was told, but Mrs. Vivian knew the young
fellow and was familiar with his habits. She knew that he had not worked
as the old woman had, still he had double the amount to his credit and
they had both done the same amount of work.
Mrs. Vivian had a talk with the woman a few days afterwards. She saw her
limping along when Mrs. Vivian questioned her. She said she was thankful
to be allowed to stay in the colony as she had been unable to pay the
dues.
“Of course,” she added, “I got all I asked, but I wish I could earn more
so I would be sure that when I die I will be decently buried. I don’t
want my body in the potters’ field. My back aches awful bad,” she said,
“I can’t sleep for the pain at night.”
She passed on, but Mrs. Vivian couldn’t forget the conversation. She
kept thinking to herself, “That woman ought to have as much as that man,
if not more, and I am going to find out why she didn’t get it.” So she
asked the foreman.
“Well,” he said, “she came here without any recommendation. She said she
was willing to work for her food and a place to sleep. I consulted the
president and he said to take her and see if she was capable of
anything, if so, to let her stay a while.”
“Now, foreman,” Mrs. Vivian said, “don’t all get the same price for the
same work?”
“Oh, no,” he said. “These outsiders don’t ask so much; in fact, don’t
expect as much as the members who pay in their dues.”
“Poor souls,” Mrs. Vivian said. “Some way must be found to supply them
with work enough to keep them from living in misery. If they have to
work I shall see that they are paid for all they earn.”
Next day Mrs. Vivian told Scoris that she wanted to apply for the title
and she wished she had done so before.