are moving about the lathes. Suddenly the hooter is sounded. It is sounded twice. The girls know what that means—the Zeppelins are coming!
We wonder if there will be a panic, and a few shrill cries in the first moments give hint of gathering hysteria, with here and there the laughterless laugh that sometimes goes before a fainting fit. But at the next instant one of the managers, a manly fellow with a knowledge of female nature, shouts in a loud, encouraging, yet commanding voice, "Now, girls, sing something!" It is an inspiration. The word acts like magic. One of the women strikes up, "If you were the only boy and I were the only girl." Before she has reached the second line all the girls in her shop have joined her, some in full voice, others in the quavering tones that tell of still trembling hearts. It is thrilling; the situation is saved. After another few moments the machinery slows down, the pulleys and belts begin to stop, the lights are put out, and the whole factory is
