To find something to do besides the nursery games disguised under
new forms for the grown-up yet never to be grown-up infants of
the world. ``And THAT kind of politics doesn't sound shallow and
dull. There's heart in it--and brains--real brains--not merely
nasty little self-seeking cunning.'' She took up the handbill
again and read a paragraph set in bolder type:

``The reason we of the working class are slaves is because we
haven't intelligence enough to be our own masters, let alone
masters of anybody else. The talk of equality, workingmen, is
nonsense to flatter your silly, ignorant vanity. We are not the
equals of our masters. They know more than we do, and naturally
they use that knowledge to make us work for them. So, even if
you win in this strike or in all your strikes, you will not much
better yourselves. Because you are ignorant and foolish, your
masters will scheme around and take from you in some other way
what you have wrenched from them in the strike.

``Organize! Think! Learn! Then you will rise out of the dirt
where you wallow with your wives and your children. Don't blame
your masters; they don't enslave you. They don't keep you in
slavery. Your chains are of your own forging and only you can
strike them off!''

Certainly no tenement house woman could be lazier, emptier of
head, more inane of life than her sister Martha. ``She wouldn't
even keep clean if it wasn't the easiest thing in the world for
her to do, and a help at filling in her long idle day.''
Yet--Martha Galland had every comfort and most of the luxuries,