Meanwhile Insall had come up and seated himself below them on the edge of
the platform.

"Oh, Brooks, your friend Miss Bumpus is employed in the Strike
Headquarters!" Mrs. Brocklehurst cried, and turning to Janet she went on.
"I didn't realize you were a factory girl, I must say you don't look it."

Once more a gleam of amusement from Insall saved Janet, had the effect of
compelling her to meet the affair somewhat after his own manner. He
seemed to be putting the words into her mouth, and she even smiled a
little, as she spoke.

"You never can tell what factory girls do look like in these days," she
observed mischievously.

"That's so," Mrs. Brocklehurst agreed, "we are living in such
extraordinary times, everything topsy turvy. I ought to have realized
--it was stupid of me--I know several factory girls in New York, I've
been to their meetings, I've had them at my house--shirtwaist strikers."

She assumed again the willowy, a position, her fingers clasped across her
knee, her eyes supplicatingly raised to Janet. Then she reached out her
hand and touched the I.W.W. button. "Do tell me all about the Industrial
Workers, and what they believe," she pleaded.

"Well," said Janet, after a slight pause, "I'm afraid you won't like it
much. Why do you want to know?"

"Because I'm so interested--especially in the women of the movement. I
feel for them so, I want to help--to do something, too. Of course you're