Margaret Steel has left school, and to-morrow morning she goes off at
five o'clock to the factory.
To-day Margaret is a bright-eyed, rosy-cheeked lassie; in three years
she will be hollow-eyed and pale-faced. Never again will she know what
it is to waken naturally after sleep; the factory syren will haunt her
dreams always. She will rise at half-past four summer and winter; she
will tramp the two mile road to the factory, and when six comes at night
she will wearily tramp home again. Possibly she will marry a factory
worker and continue working in the factory, for his wage will not keep
up a home. In the neighbouring town hundreds of homes are locked all day
... and Bruce the manufacturer's daughters are in county society. Heigh
ho! It is a queer thing civilisation!
I wonder when the people will begin to realise what wagery means. When
they do begin to realise they will commence the revolution by driving
women out of industry. To-day the women are used by the profiteer as
instruments to exploit the men. Surely a factory worker has the right to
earn enough to support a family on. The profiteer says "No! You must
marry one of my hands, and then your combined wages will set up a home
for you."