Mary Minds Her Business Part 14

Her own question set her thinking, and something seemed to tell her that now or never she must watch her chance to make old dreams come true.

Surely never before in the history of the world had woman come to the front with such a splendid arrival.

"We'll get things yet, Aunt Delia," she whispered in confidence, "so that folks will be just as proud of a girl baby as a boy baby." Whereupon she wagged her finger as though to say, "You mark my words!" and went rolling away to hear a distinguished lecturer who had just returned from Europe with a message to the women in America of what their sisters were doing across the seas.

The address was given at the Red Cross rooms, and as Mary listened she sewed upon a flannel swaddling robe that was later to go to Siberia lest a new-born babe might perish. At first she listened conscientiously enough to the speaker--"What our European sisters have done in agriculture--"

"I do believe at times that it's the women more than the men who make a country great," she thought as she heard of the women ploughing, planting, reaping. To Mary's mind each stoical figure glowed with the light of heroism, and she nodded her head as she worked.

"Just as I've always said," she mused; "there's nothing a man can do that a woman can't do."

From her chair by the window she chanced to look out at an old circus poster across the street.

"Now that's funny, too," she thought, her needle suspended; "I never thought of that before--but even in such things as lion taming and trapeze performing--where you would think a woman would really be at a disadvantage--she isn't at all. She's just as good as a man!"

The voice of the speaker broke in upon her thoughts.

"I am now going to tell you," she said, "what the women of Europe are doing in the factories--"

And oh, how Mary listened, then!

It was a long talk--I cannot begin to give it here--but she drank in every word, and hungered and thirsted for more.

"There is not an operation in factory, foundry or laboratory," began the speaker, "where women are not employed--"

As in a dream Mary seemed to see the factory of Spencer & Son. The long lines of men had vanished, and in their places were women, clear-eyed, dexterous and happy at escaping from the unpaid drudgery of housework.

"It may come to that, too," she thought, "if we go into war."

"In aeroplane construction," the speaker continued, "where an undetected flaw in her work might mean an aviator's life, woman is doing the carpentry work, building the frame work, making the propellers. They are welding metals, drilling, boring, grinding, milling, even working on the engines and magnetos--"

A quiver ran up and down Mary's back and her eyes felt wet. "Just what I've always said," she thought. "Ah, the poor women--"

"They are making telescopes, periscopes, binoculars, cameras--cutting and grinding the lenses--work so fine that the deviation of a hair's breadth would cause rejection--some of the lenses as small as a split pea. They make the metal parts that hold those lenses, a.s.semble them, adjust them, test them. These are the eyes of the army and navy--surely no small part for the woman to supply."

Mary's thoughts turned to some of the homes she had seen--the surroundings--the expression of the housewife. "All her life and no help for it," she thought. And again, "Ah, the poor women...."

"To tell you the things she is making would be to give you a list of everything used in modern warfare. They are making s.h.i.+ps, tanks, cannon, rifles, cartridges. They are operating the most wonderful trip hammers that were ever conceived by the mind of man, and under the same roof they are doing hand work so delicate that the least extra pressure of a file would spoil a week's labour. More! There isn't a process in which she has been employed where woman has failed to show that she is man's equal in speed and skill. In many operations she has shown that she is man's superior--doing this by the simple method of turning out more work in a day than the man whose place she took--"

Mary invited the speaker to go home with her, and if you had gone past the house on the hill that night, you would have seen lights burning downstairs until after one o 'clock.

How did they train the women?

How did they find time to do their was.h.i.+ng and ironing?

What about the children? And the babies? And the home?

As the visitor explained, stopping now and then to tell her young hostess where to write for government reports giving facts and figures on the subject which they were discussing, Mary's eyes grew dreamier and dreamier as one fancy after another pa.s.sed through her mind. And when the clock struck one and she couldn't for shame keep her guest up any longer, she went to her room at last and undressed in a sort of a reverie, her glance inward turned, her head slightly on one side, and with such a look of thoughtful exaltation that I wish I could paint it for you, because I know I can never put it into words.

Still, if you can picture Betsey Ross, it was thus perhaps that Betsey looked when first she saw the flag.

Or Joan of Arc might once have gazed that way in Orleans' woods.

CHAPTER XV

It was in December that Mary's great idea began to a.s.sume form. She wrote to the American Amba.s.sadors in Great Britain and France for any doc.u.ments which they could send her relating to the subject so close to her heart.

In due time two formidable packages arrived at the house on the hill.

Mary carried them into the den and opened them with fingers that trembled with eagerness.

Yes, it was all true.... All true.... Here it was in black and white, with photographs and statistics set down by impartial observers and printed by government. Generally a state report is dry reading, but to Mary at least these were more exciting than any romances--more beautiful than any poem she had ever read.

At last woman had been given a chance to show what she could do. And how she had shown them!

Without one single straining effort, without the least thought of doing anything spectacular, she had gently and calmly taken up men's tools and had done men's work--not indifferently well--not in any makes.h.i.+ft manner--but "in all cases, even the most technical, her work has equalled that previously done exclusively by man. In a number of instances, owing to her natural dexterity and colour sense, her work, indeed, has been superior."

How Mary studied those papers!

Never even at college had she applied herself more closely. She memorized, compared, read, thought, held arguments with herself. And finally, when she was able to pa.s.s any examination that might be set before her, she went down to the office one day and sent for Mr.

MacPherson, the master mechanic.

He came--grey haired, grim faced, a man who seemed to keep his mouth b.u.t.toned-and Mary asked him to shut the door behind him. Whereat Mac b.u.t.toned his mouth more tightly than before, and looked grimmer, too, if that were possible.

"You don't look a day older," Mary told him with a smile. "I remember you from the days when my father used to carry me around--"

"He was a grand man, Miss Mary; it's a pity he's gone," said Mac and promptly b.u.t.toned his mouth again.

"I want to talk to you about something," she said, "but first I want you to promise to keep it a secret."

He blinked his eyes at that, and as much as a grim faced man can look troubled, he looked troubled.

"There are vera few secrets that can be kept around this place," was his strange reply. "Might I ask, Miss Mary, of what nature is the subject?"

And seeing that she hesitated he added, first looking cautiously over his shoulder, "Is it anything, for instance, to do wi' Mr. Woodward? Or, say, the conduct of the business?"

"No, no," said Mary, "it--it's about women--" Mac stared at her, but when she added "--about women working in the factory," he drew a breath of relief.

"Aye," he said, "I think I can promise to keep quiet about that."

"Isn't it true," she began, "that most of the machinery we use doesn't require a great deal of skill to run it?"

"We've a lot of automatics," acknowledged Mac. "Your grandfather's idea, Miss Mary. A grand man. He was one of the first to make the machine think instead of the operator."

"How long does it take to break in an ordinary man?"

"A few weeks is generally enough. It depends on the man and the tool."

Mary told him then what she had in her mind, and Mac didn't think much of it until she showed him the photographs. Even then he was "michty cautious" until he happened to turn to the picture of a munition factory in Glasgow where row after row of overalled women were doing the lathe work.