here and there farther down the street served only to exaggerate its wide
emptiness. What could these do, what could she accomplish against the
mighty power of the mills? Gradually, as she stood gazing, she became
aware of a beating of feet upon the snow; over her shoulder she caught
the gleam of steel. A squad of soldiers muffled in heavy capes and woolen
caps was marching along the car-tracks. She followed them. At the corner
of West Street, in obedience to a sharp command she saw them halt, turn,
and advance toward a small crowd gathered there. It scattered, only to
collect again when the soldiers had passed on. Janet joined them. She
heard men cursing the soldiers. The women stood a little aside; some were
stamping to keep warm, and one, with a bundle in her arms which Janet
presently perceived to be a child, sank down on a stone step and remained
there, crouching, resigned.

"We gotta right to stay here, in the street. We gotta right to live, I
guess." The girl's teeth were chattering, but she spoke with such
vehemence and spirit as to attract Janet's attention. "You worked in the
Chippering, like me--yes?" she asked.

Janet nodded. The faded, lemon-coloured shawl the girl had wrapped about
her head emphasized the dark beauty of her oval face. She smiled, and her
white teeth were fairly dazzling. Impulsively she thrust her arm through
Janet's.

"You American--you comrade, you come to help?" she asked.

"I've never done any picketing."

"I showa you."