They laughed at this inversion of old ideas.

“You can tell them they’ll get women’s wages,” said Mary, “if they can do women’s work!”

But in spite of her smile, for the last few minutes she had become increasingly conscious of a false note, a forced conclusion in their plans—­had caught glimpses of future hostilities, misunderstandings, suspicions.  The next remark of one of the labour leaders cleared her thoughts and brought her back face to face with her golden vision.

“The strike was silly—­yes,” one of the leaders said.  “But back of the men’s actions I think I can see the question which disturbed their minds.  If women enter the trades, what are the men going to do?  Will there be work enough for everybody?”

Even before he stopped speaking, Mary knew that she had found herself, knew that the solid rock was under her feet again.

“There is just so much useful work that has to be done in the world every day,” she said, “and the more hands there are to do it, the quicker it will get done.”

That was as far as she had ever gone before, but now she went a step farther.

“Let us suppose, for instance, that we had three thousand married men working here eight hours a day to support their families.  If now we allow three thousand women to come out of those same homes and work side by side with the men—­why, don’t you see?—­the work could be done in four hours instead of eight, and yet the same family would receive just the same income as they are getting now—­the only difference being that instead of the man drawing all the money, he would draw half and his wife would draw half.”

“A four hour day!” said one of the leaders, almost in awe.

“I’m sure it’s possible if the women help,” said Mary, “and I know they want to help.  They want to feel that they are doing something—­earning something—­just the same as a man does.  They want to progress—­develop—­

“We used to think they couldn’t do men’s work,” she continued.  “I used to think so, myself.  So we kept them fastened up at home—­something like squirrels in cages—­because we thought housework was the only thing they could do....

“But, oh, how the war has opened our eyes!...

“There’s nothing a man can do that a woman can’t do—­nothing!  And now the question is:  Are we going to crowd her back into her kitchen, when if we let her out we could do the world’s work in four hours instead of eight?”

“Of course there are conditions where four hours wouldn’t work,” said one of the leaders half to himself.  “I can see that in many places it might be feasible, but not everywhere—­”

“No plan works everywhere.  No plan is perfect,” said Mary earnestly.  “I’ve thought of that, too.  The world is doing its best to progress—­to make people happier—­to make life more worth living all the time.  But no single step will mark the end of human progress.  Each step is a step:  that’s all...