But here suddenly seemed a solution of the difficulty; here was a new
interest for Mary, a safe channel in which her emotions could run. A
woman could not serve on a miners' committee, but she would be a good
adviser, and her sharp tongue would be a weapon to drive others into
line. Being aflame with this enterprise, Hal became impersonal,
man-fashion--and so fell into another sentimental trap! He did not stop
to think that Mary's interest in the check-weighman movement might be
conditioned in part by a desire to see more of him; still less did it
occur to him that he might be glad for a pretext to see Mary.

No, he was picturing her in a new role, an activity more inspiriting
than cooking and nursing. His "poetry-book" imagination took fire; he
gave her a hope and a purpose, a pathway with a goal at the end. Had
there not been women leaders in every great proletarian movement?

He went to call on her, and met her at the door of her cabin. "'Tis a
cheerin' sight to see ye, Joe Smith!" she said. And she looked him in
the eye and smiled.

"The same to you, Mary Burke!" he answered.

She was game, he saw; she was going to be a "good sport." But he noticed
that she was paler than when he had seen her last. Could it be that
these gorgeous Irish complexions ever faded? He thought that she was
thinner too; the old blue calico seemed less tight upon her.

Hal plunged into his theme. "Mary, I had a vision of you to-day!"

"Of me, lad? What's that?"