Afterwards, when Mary looked back at the leading incidents of the big
strike it wasn't the epic note which interested her the most, although
the contest had for her its moments of exaltation.
Nor did her thoughts revert the oftenest to those strange things which
might have engrossed the chance observer--work and happiness walking hand
in hand, for instance, to the accompaniment of Mrs. Kelly's drum--or
woman showing that she can acquire the same dexterity on a drilling
machine as on a sewing machine, the same skill at a tempering oven as at
a cook stove, the same competence and neatness in a factory as in a
house.
Indeed, when all is said and done, the sound of the work which women were
presently doing at New Bethel was only an echo of the tasks which women
had done during four years of war, and being a repetition of history, it
didn't surprise Mary when she stopped to think it over. But looking back
at the whole experience later, these were the two reflections which
interested her the most.
"They have always called woman a riddle," she thought. "I wonder if that
is because she could never be natural. If woman has been a riddle in the
past, I wonder if this is the answer now...."
That was her first reflection.
Her second was this, and in it she unconsciously worded one of the great
lessons of life. "The things I worried about seldom happened. It was
something which nobody ever dreamed of--that nearly ended everything."
And when she thought of that, her breath would come a little quicker and
soon she would shake her head, and try to put her mind on something else;
although if you had been there I think you would have seen a suspicious
moisture in her eye, and if she were in her room at home, she would go to
a photograph on the wall-the picture of a gravely smiling girl on a
convent portico--signed "With all my love, Rosa."
Still, as you can see, I am running ahead of my story, and so that you
may better understand Mary's two reflections and the events which led to
them, I will now return to the morning when she received Archey's message
that every man in the factory had gone on strike as a protest against the
employment of women.
As soon as she reached the office she sent a facsimile letter to the
skilled women workers who had applied from out of town.
"If we only get a third of them," she thought, "we'll pull through
somehow."
But Mary was reckoning without her book. For one thing, she was unaware
of the publicity which her experiment was receiving, and for another
thing perhaps it didn't occur to her that the same yearnings, the same
longings, the same stirrings which moved her own heart and mind so
often--the same vague feeling of imprisonment, the same vague groping for
a way out--might also be moving the hearts and minds of countless other
women, and especially those who had for the first time in their lives
achieved economic independence by means of their labour in the war.
Whatever the reason, so many skilled women journeyed to New Bethel that
week, coming with the glow of crusaders, eager to write their names on
this momentous page of woman's history, that Mary's worry turned into a
source of embarrassment. However, by straining every effort,
accommodations were found for the visitors and the work of
re-organization was at once begun.
The next six weeks were the busiest, I had almost said the most feverish,
in Mary's life.
The day after the big strike was declared, not a single bearing was made
at Spencer & Son's great plant. For a factory is like a road of many
bridges, and when half of these bridges are suddenly swept away, traffic
is out of the question.
So the first problem was to bridge the gaps.
From the new arrivals, fixers, case-hardeners and temperers were set to
work--women who had learned their trades during the war.
Also a call was issued for local workers and the "school" was opened,
larger than ever. For the first few weeks it might be said that half the
factory was a school of intensive instruction; and then, one day which
Mary will never forget, a few lonely looking bearings made laborious
progress through the plant--only a few, but each one embodying a secret
which I will tell you about later.
The missing bridges weren't completed yet, you understand--not by any
manner of means--but at least the foundations had been laid, and every
day the roadway became a little wider and a little firmer--and the
progress of the bearings became a little thicker and a little quicker.
And, oh, the enthusiasm of the women--their shining eyes, their
breathless attention--as they felt the roadway growing solid beneath
their feet and knew it was all their work!
"If we keep on at this rate," said Archey, looking at the reports in
Mary's office one morning, "it won't be long before we're doing something
big."
There was just the least touch of astonishment in his voice--masculine,
unconscious--which raised an equally unconscious touch of exultation in
Mary's answer.
"Perhaps sooner than you think," she said.
For no one knew better than she that the new organization was rapidly
finding itself now that the roadway of production had been rebuilt. Every
day weak spots had been mended, curves straightened out, narrow places
made wider.
"Let's speed up today," she finally said, "and see what we can do."
At the end of that day the reports showed that all the departments had
made an improvement until the bearings reached the final assembling room
and there the traffic had become congested. For the rest of the week the
assembly room was kept under scrutiny, new methods were tried, more women
were set to work.
"Let's speed up again today," said Mary one morning, "and see if we can
make it this time--"
And finally came the day when they _did_ make it! For four consecutive
days their output equalled the best ever done by the factory, and then
just as every woman was beginning to thrill with that jubilation which
only comes of a hard task well done, a weak spot developed in the
hardening department.
Oh, how everybody frowned and clicked their tongues! You might have
thought that all the cakes in the world had suddenly burned in the
ovens--that every clothes line in America had broken on a muddy washday!
"Never mind," said Mary. "We're nearly there. One more good try, and over
the top we'll go...."
One more good try, and they _did_ go over the top. For two days, three
days, four days, five days, a whole week, they equalled the best man-made
records. For one week, two weeks, three weeks, the famous Spencer
bearings rolled out of the final inspection room and into their wooden
cases as fast as man had ever rolled them. And when Mary saw that at last
the first part of her vision had come true, she did a feminine thing,
that is to say a human thing. She simultaneously said, "I told you so,"
and sprung her secret by sending the following message to the newspapers:
"The three thousand women at this factory are daily turning out the same
number of bearings that three thousand men once turned out.
"The new bearings are identical with the old ones in every detail but
one, namely: they are one thousandth of an inch more accurate than
Spencer bearings were ever made before.
"Our customers appreciate this improvement and know what it means.
"Our unfriendly critics, I think, will also appreciate it and know what
it means."
Upon consideration, Mary had that last paragraph taken out.
"I'll leave that to their imaginations," she said, and after she had
signed each letter, she did another feminine thing.
She had a gentle little cry all by herself, and then through her tears
she smiled at her silent forbears who seemed to be watching her more
attentively than ever from their frames of tarnished gilt upon the walls.
"It hasn't been all roses and lilies," she told them, "but--that's us!"