but 50 centimes an hour, her own job's rate of pay, 60, 70, 80 centimes an hour, whatever it may be, will be continued.
"But isn't it an interruption to your business to have employés who every now and then have to stop to have a baby?" I asked the French manufacturer. "Ah, no, Madame," he replied, "surely it is no disturbance at all. It is nothing even if a woman should wish to be absent for two or three months. Is she not serving her country? We simply arrange a large enough staff of employés so that always there are some to fill the gaps. Maternity is something that may be estimated by percentage. We count on it that Camille here will probably have a baby in July. Etienne, next to her, may have one in September. Well, by the time a substitute employé is finished with taking Camille's place, she will be required in Etienne's place, then, perhaps, in Azalie's place. It is very easy, I say, to arrange."
And it is because the rising value of a baby makes it worth while. It is in France, where maternity has always been important, that all of the institutions for the welfare of the child now being rushed to completion in other lands have been originally invented. We in America, in some of our large cities, have started the "clinic" and the "consultation" and the crèche. Italy is inaugurating them. Russia sent to Paris for specific information about them before the war. Germany's "Kaiserin Auguste Victoria Haus" in Berlin, a veritable "laboratory of the child," from which the child culture system adapted
