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diff --git a/.gitattributes b/.gitattributes new file mode 100644 index 0000000..6833f05 --- /dev/null +++ b/.gitattributes @@ -0,0 +1,3 @@ +* text=auto +*.txt text +*.md text diff --git a/5797.txt b/5797.txt new file mode 100644 index 0000000..f4951a5 --- /dev/null +++ b/5797.txt @@ -0,0 +1,12386 @@ +The Project Gutenberg EBook of Youth Challenges, by Clarence B. Kelland + +This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere at no cost and with +almost no restrictions whatsoever. You may copy it, give it away or +re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included +with this eBook or online at www.gutenberg.org + + +Title: Youth Challenges + +Author: Clarence B. Kelland + +Posting Date: June 4, 2012 [EBook #5797] +Release Date: May, 2004 +First Posted: September 2, 2002 + +Language: English + +Character set encoding: ASCII + +*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK YOUTH CHALLENGES *** + + + + +Produced by Charles Franks and the Online Distributed Proofreading Team. + + + + + + + + + +Youth Challenges + +By + +CLARENCE BUDINGTON KELLAND + +AUTHOR OF + +"The Little Moment of Happiness," "The High Flyers," "Sudden Jim," "The +Source," "The Hidden Spring," etc. + + + + + + +CHAPTER I + + +Bonbright Foote VI arose and stood behind the long table which served +him as a desk and extended his hand across it. His bearing was that of +a man taking a leading part in an event of historic importance. + +"My son," said he, "it gratifies me to welcome you to your place in +this firm." Then he smiled. When Bonbright Foote VI smiled it was as +though he said to himself, "To smile one must do thus and so with the +features," and then systematically put into practice his instructions. +It was a cultured smile, one that could have been smiled only by a +gentleman conscious of generations of correct antecedents; it was an +aristocratic smile. On the whole it was not unpleasant, though so +excellently and formally done. + +"Thank you, father," replied Bonbright Foote VII. "I hope I shall be of +some use to you." + +"Your office is ready for you," said his father, stepping to a door +which he unlocked with the gravity of a man laying a corner stone. +"This door," said he, "has not been opened since I took my place at the +head of the business--since I moved from the desk you are to occupy to +the one in this room. It will not be closed again until the time +arrives for you to assume command. We have--we Footes--always regarded +this open door as a patent token of partnership between father and son." + +Young Foote was well acquainted with this--as a piece of his family's +regalia. He knew he was about to enter and to labor in the office of +the heir apparent, a room which had been tenantless since the death of +his grandfather and the consequent coronation of his father. Such was +the custom. For twelve years that office had been closed and waiting. +None had ventured into it, except for a janitor whose weekly dustings +and cleanings had been performed with scrupulous care. He knew that +Bonbright Foote VI had occupied the room for seventeen years. Before +that it had stood vacant eleven years awaiting for Bonbright Foote VI +to reach such age and attainments as were essential. Young Foote +realized that upon the death of his father the office would be closed +again until his son, Bonbright Foote VIII, should be equipped, by time +and the university founded by John Harvard, to enter as he was entering +to-day. So the thing had been done since the first Bonbright Foote +invested Bonbright Foote II with dignities and powers. + +Father and son entered the long-closed office, a large, indeed a +stately room. It contained the same mahogany table at which Bonbright +Foote II had worked; the same chairs, the same fittings, the same +pictures hung on the walls, that had been the property of the first +crown prince of the Foote dynasty. It was not a bright place, +suggestive of liveliness or gayety, but it was decorously inviting--a +place in which one could work with comfort and satisfaction. + +"Let me see you at your desk," said the father, smiling again. "I have +looked forward to seeing you there, just as you will look forward to +seeing YOUR son there." + +Bonbright sat down, wondering if his father had felt oppressed as HE +felt oppressed at this moment. He had a feeling of stepping from one +existence into another, almost of stepping from one body, one identity, +to another. When he sat at that desk he would be taking up, not his own +career, but the career of the entity who had occupied this office +through generations, and would occupy it in perpetual succession. +Vaguely he began to miss something. The sensation was like that of one +who has long worn a ring on his finger, but omits to put it on one +morning. For that person there is a vague sense of something missing +throughout the day. Bonbright did not know what he felt the lack of--it +was his identity. + +"For the next month or so," said his father, "about all you can hope to +do is to become acquainted with the plant and with our methods. Rangar +will always be at your disposal to explain or to give you desired +information. I think it would be well if he were to conduct you through +the plant. It will give you a basis to work from." + +"The plant is still growing, I see," said Bonbright. "It seems as if a +new building were being put up every time I come home." + +"Yes, growing past the prophecy of any of our predecessors," said his +father. He paused. "I am not certain," he said, as one who asks a +question of his inner self, "but I would have preferred a slower, more +conservative growth." + +"The automobile has done it, of course." + +"Axles," said his father, with a hint of distaste. "The manufacturing +of rear axles has overshadowed everything else. We retain as much of +the old business--the manufacturing of machinery--as ever. Indeed, THAT +branch has shown a healthy growth. But axles! A mushroom that has +overgrown us in a night." + +It was apparent that Bonbright Foote VI did not approve of axles, as it +was a known fact that he frowned upon automobiles. He would not own one +of them. They were too new, too blatant. His stables were still +stables. His coachman had not been transmuted into a chauffeur. When he +drove it was in a carriage drawn by horses--as his ancestors had driven. + +"Yes... yes..." he said, slowly, with satisfaction, "it is good to have +you in the business, son. It's a satisfaction to see you sitting +there.... Now we must look about to find a suitable girl for you to +marry. We must begin to think about Bonbright Foote VIII." There was no +smile as he said this; the observation was made in sober earnest. +Bonbright saw that, just as his ancestors looked to him to carry on the +business, so they looked to him to produce with all convenient dispatch +a male successor to himself. It was, so to speak, an important feature +of his job. + +"I'll send in Rangar," said his father, not waiting for Bonbright to +reply to the last suggestion, and walked with long-legged dignity out +of the room. + +Bonbright rested his chin on his palm and stared gloomily at the wall. +He felt bound and helpless; he saw himself surrounded by firm and +dignified shades of departed Bonbright Footes whose collective wills +compelled him to this or prohibited that course of action. + +Adventure, chance, were eliminated from his life. He was to be no +errant musician, improvising according to his mood; the score he was to +play was before him, and he must play it note for note, paying strict +attention to rests, keys, andantes, fortissimos, pianissimos. He had +been born to this, had been made conscious of his destiny from +babyhood, but never had he comprehended it as he did on this day of his +investiture. + +Even the selection and courting of a mate, that greatest of all +adventures (to the young), was made humdrum. Doubtless his mother +already had selected the girl, and presently would marry him to her. +... Somehow this was the one phase of the situation that galled him +most. + +"I'll see about that," he muttered, rebelliously, "I'll see about that." + +Not that marriage was of importance to him yet, except as a thing to be +avoided until some dim future. Women had not assumed consequence to +him; his relations with them had been scant surface relations. They +were creatures who did or did not please the eye, who did or did not +dance well, who did or did not amuse one. That was all. He was only +twenty-three. + +Rangar, his father's secretary, and the man who stood as shield between +Bonbright Foote VI and unpleasant contacts with his business and the +world's business, entered. Rangar was a capable man whose place as +secretary to the head of the business did not measure his importance in +the organization. Another man of his abilities and opportunity and +position would have carried the title of general manager or vice +president--something respect-carrying. As for Rangar, he was content. +He drew the salary that would have accompanied those other titles, +possessed in an indirect sort of way the authority, and yet managed to +remain disentangled from the responsibilities. Had he suddenly vanished +the elder Foote would have been left suspended in rarefied heights +between heaven and his business, lacking direct contact with the mills +and machine shops and foundries; yet, doubtless, would have been unable +to realize that the loss of Rangar had left him so. Rangar was a +competent, efficient man, if peculiar in his ambitions. + +"Your father," said he, "has asked me to show you through the plant." + +"Thank you--yes," said Bonbright, rising. + +They went out, passing from the old, the family, wing of the office +building, into the larger, newer, general offices, made necessary by +the vastly increased business of the firm. Here, in a huge room, were +bookkeepers, stenographers, clerks, filing cabinets, desks, +typewriters--with several cubicles glassed off for the more important +employees and minor executives. + +"We have tried," said Rangar, "to retain as far as possible the old +methods and systems. Your father, Mr. Foote, is conservative. He clings +to the ways of his father and his grandfather." + +"I remember," said Bonbright, "when we had no typewriting machines." + +"We had to come to them," said Rangar, with a note of regret. "Axles +compelled us. But we have never taken up with these new +contraptions--fads--like phonographs to dictate to, card indices, +loose-leaf systems, adding machines, and the like. Of course it +requires more clerks and stenographers, and possibly we are a bit +slower than some. Your father says, however, that he prefers conducting +his business as a gentleman should, rather than to make a mere machine +of it. His idea," said Rangar, "of a gentleman in business is one who +refuses to make use of abbreviations in his correspondence." + +Bonbright was looking about the busy room, conscious that he was being +covertly studied by every occupant of it. It made him uncomfortable, +uneasy. + +"Let's go on into the shops," he said, impatiently. + +They turned, and encountered in the aisle a girl with a stenographer's +notebook in her hand; indeed, Bonbright all but stepped on her. She was +a slight, tiny thing, not thin, but small. Her eyes met Bonbright's +eyes and she grinned. No other word can describe it. It was not an +impertinent grin, nor a familiar grin, nor a COMMON grin. It was +spontaneous, unstudied--it lay at the opposite end of the scale from +Bonbright Foote VI's smile. Somehow the flash of it COMFORTED +Bonbright. His sensations responded to it. It was a grin that radiated +with well wishes for all the world. Bonbright smiled back, awkwardly, +and bobbed his head as she stepped aside for him to pass. + +"What a grin!" he said, presently. + +"Oh," said Rangar. "Yes--to be sure. The Girl with the Grin--that's +what they call her in the office. She's always doing it. Your father +hasn't noticed. I hope he doesn't, for I'm sure he wouldn't like it." + +"As if," said Bonbright to himself, "she were happy--and wanted +everybody else to be." + +"I'm sure I don't know," said Rangar. "She's competent." + +They passed outside and through a covered passageway into the older of +the shops. Bonbright was not thinking about the shops, but about the +girl. She was the only thing he had encountered that momentous morning +that had interested him, the only thing upon which Bonbright Foote, +Incorporated, had not set the stamp of its repressing personality. + +He tried to visualize her and her smile that he might experience again +that sensation of relief, of lightened spirit. In a measure he was able +to do so. Her mouth was large, he saw--no small mouth could have +managed that grin. She was not pretty, but, somehow, attractive. Her +eyes were bully; intelligent, humorous sort of eyes, he decided. + +"Bet she's a darn nice kid," he concluded, boyishly. His father would +have been shocked at a thought expressed in such words. + +"The business has done wonders these last five years," said Rangar, +intruding on Bonbright's thoughts. "Five years ago we employed less +than a thousand hands; to-day we have more than five thousand on the +payroll. Another few years and we shall have ten thousand." + +"Axles?" asked Bonbright, mechanically. + +"Axles," replied Rangar. + +"Father doesn't approve of them--but they must be doing considerable +for the family bank account." + +Rangar shot a quick glance at the boy, a glance with reproof in it for +such a flippancy. Vaguely he had heard that this young man had done +things not expected from a Foote; had, for instance, gone in for +athletics at the university. It was reported he had actually allowed +himself to be carried once on the shoulders of a cheering mob of +students! There were other rumors, also, which did not sit well on the +Foote tradition. Rangar wondered if at last a Foote had been born into +the family who was not off the old piece of cloth, who might, indeed, +prove difficult and disappointing. The flippancy indicated it. + +"Our inventory," he said, severely, "five years ago, showed a trifle +over a million dollars. To-day these mills would show a valuation of +five millions. The earnings," he added, "have increased in even greater +ratio." + +"Hum," said Bonbright, his mind already elsewhere. His thought, +unspoken, was, "If we've got so blamed much, what's the use piling it +up?" + +At noon they had not finished the inspection of the plant; it was well +toward five o'clock when they did so, for Rangar did his duty +conscientiously. His explanations were long, careful, technical. +Bonbright set his mind to the task and listened well. He was even +interested, for there were interesting things to see, processes +requiring skilled men, machines that had required inventive genius to +devise. He began to be oppressed by the bigness of it. The plant was +huge; it was enormously busy. The whole world seemed to need axles, +preferably Foote axles, and to need them in a hurry. + +At last, a trifle dazed, startled by the vastness of the domain to +which he was heir apparent, Bonbright returned to the aloof quiet of +his historic room. + +"I've a lot to learn," he told Rangar. + +"It will grow on you.... By the way, you will need a secretary." (The +Footes had secretaries, not stenographers.) "Shall I select one for +you?" + +"Yes," said Bonbright, without interest; then he looked up quickly. +"No," he said, "I've selected my own. You say that girl--the one who +grinned--is competent?" + +"Yes, indeed--but a girl! It has been the custom for the members of the +firm to employ only men." + +Bonbright looked steadily at Rangar a moment, then said: + +"Please have that girl notified at once that she is to be my secretary." + +"Yes, sir," said Rangar. The boy WAS going to prove difficult. He owned +a will. Well, thought the man, others may have had it in the family +before--but it has not remained long. + +"Anything more, Mr. Foote?" + +"Thank you, no," said Bonbright, and Rangar said good evening and +disappeared. + +The boy rested his chin on his hand again, and reflected gloomily. He +hunched up his shoulders and sighed. "Anyhow," he said to himself, +"I'll have SOMEBODY around me who is human." + + + + +CHAPTER II + + +Bonbright's father had left the office an hour before he and Rangar had +finished their tour of the works. It was always his custom to leave his +business early and to retire to the library in his home, where daily he +devoted two hours to adding to the manuscript of The Philosophical +Biography of Marquis Lafayette. This work was ultimately to appear in +several severe volumes and was being written, not so much to enlighten +the world upon the details of the career of the marquis as it was to +utilize the marquis as a clotheshorse to be dressed in Bonbright Foote +VI's mature reflections on men, events, and humanity at large. + +Bonbright VII sat at his desk motionless, studying his career as it lay +circumscribed before him. He did not study it rebelliously, for as yet +rebellion had not occurred to him. The idea that he might assert his +individuality and depart from the family pattern had not ventured to +show its face. For too many years had his ancestors been impressing him +with his duty to the family traditions. He merely studied it, as one +who has no fancy for geometry will study geometry, because it cannot be +helped. The path was there, carefully staked out and bordered; to-day +his feet had been placed on it, and now he must walk. As he sat he +looked ahead for bypaths--none were visible. + +The shutting-down whistle aroused him. He walked out through the +rapidly emptying office to the street, and there he stood, interested +by the spectacle of the army that poured out of the employees' +entrances. It was an inundation of men, flooding street from sidewalk +to sidewalk. It jostled and joked and scuffled, sweating, grimy, each +unit of it eager to board waiting, overcrowded street cars, where acute +discomfort would be suffered until distant destinations were reached. +Somehow the sight of that surging, tossing stream of humanity impressed +Bonbright with the magnitude of Bonbright Foote, Incorporated, even +more than the circuit of the immense plant had done. + +Five thousand men, in a newspaper paragraph, do not affect the +imagination. Five thousand men in the concrete are quite another +matter, especially if you suddenly realize that each of them has a +wife, probably children, and that the whole are dependent upon the +dynasty of which you are a member for their daily bread. + +"Father and I," he said to himself, as the sudden shock of the idea +impacted against his consciousness, "are SUPPORTING that whole mob." + +It gave him a sense of mightiness. It presented itself to him in that +instant that he was not a mere business man, no mere manufacturer, but +a commander of men--more than that, a lord over the destinies of men. +It was overwhelming. This realization of his potency made him gasp. +Bonbright was very young. + +He turned, to be carried on by the current. Presently it was choked. A +stagnant pool of humanity formed around some center, pressing toward it +curiously. This center was a tiny park, about which the street divided, +and the center was a man standing on a barrel by the side of a sign +painted on cloth. The man was speaking in a loud, clear voice, which +was able to make itself perfectly audible even to Bonbright on the +extreme edge of the mass. + +"You are helpless as individuals," the man was saying. "If one of you +has a grievance, what can he do?... Nothing. You are a flock of +sheep.... If ALL of you have a grievance, what can you do? You are +still a pack of sheep.... Bonbright Foote, Incorporated, owns you, body +and soul.... Suppose this Foote who does you the favor to let you earn +millions for him--suppose he wants to buy his wife a diamond +necklace.... What's to prevent him lowering your wages next week to pay +for it?... YOU couldn't stop him!... Why can an army beat a mob of +double its numbers? Because the army is ORGANIZED! Because the army +fights as one man for one object!... You are a mob. Capital is +organized against you.... How can you hope to defend yourselves? How +can you force a betterment of your conditions, of your wage?... By +becoming an army--a labor army!... By organizing.... That's why I'm +here, sent by the National Federation--to organize you. To show you how +to resist!... To teach you how to make yourselves irresistible!..." +There were shouts and cheers which blotted out the speaker's words. +Then Bonbright heard him again: + +"Bonbright Foote, Incorporated, is entitled to fair interest on the +money it has invested in its plant. It is entitled to a fair profit on +the raw materials it uses in manufacture.... But how much of the final +cost of its axles does raw material represent? A fraction! What gives +the axles the rest of their value?... LABOR! You men are paid two, +three, some of you even four dollars a day--for your labor. Bonbright +Foote, Incorporated, adds a little pig iron to your labor, and gives +you a place to work in, and takes his millions of dollars a year.... Do +you get your fair share?... You do NOT, and you will never get a +respectable fraction of your fair share till you organize--and seize +it." + +There was more. Bonbright had never heard the like of it before and it +fascinated him. Here was a point of view that was new to him. What did +it mean? Vaguely he had heard of Socialism, of labor unions, of the +existence of a spirit of suspicion and discord between capital and +labor. Now he saw it, face uncovered starkly. + +A moment before he had realized his power over these men; now he +perceived that these men, some of them, realized it even better than +he.... Realized it and resented it; resented it and fought with all the +strength of their souls to undermine it and make it topple in ruin. + +His mind was a caldron into which cross currents of thought poured and +tossed. He had no experience to draw on. Here was a thing he was being +plunged into all unprepared. It had taken him unprepared, and shaken +him as he had never been shaken before. He turned away. + +Half a dozen feet away he saw the Girl with the Grin--not grinning now, +but tense, pale, listening with her soul in her eyes, and with the +light of enthusiasm glowing beside it. + +He walked to her side, touched her shoulder.... It was unpremeditated, +something besides his own will had urged him to speak to her. + +"I don't understand it," he said, unsteadily. + +"Your class never does," she replied, not sharply, not as a retort, but +merely as one states a fact to give enlightenment. + +"My father," she said, "was killed leading the strikers at Homestead. +... The unions educated me." + +"What is this man--this speaker--trying to do? Stir up a riot?" + +She smiled. "No. He is an organizer sent by the National Federation. +... They're going to try to unionize our plant." + +"Unionize?" + +"Bonbright Foote, Incorporated," she said, "is a non-union shop." + +"I didn't know," said he, after a brief pause. "I'm afraid I don't +understand these things.... I suppose one should know about them if he +is to own a plant like ours." Again he paused while he fumbled for an +idea that was taking shape. "I suppose one should understand about his +employees just as much as he does about his machinery." + +She looked at him with a touch of awakened interest. "Do you class men +with machinery?" she asked, well knowing that was not his meaning. He +did not reply. Presently he said: + +"Rangar told you you were to be my secretary?" + +"Yes, sir," she said, using that respectful form for the first time. +The relation of employer and employee had been re-established by his +words. "Thank you for the promotion." + +"You understand what this is all about," he said. "I shall want to ask +you about it.... Perhaps you even know the man who is speaking?" + +"He boards with my mother," said she. "That was natural," she added, +"my father being who he was." + +Bonbright turned and looked at the speaker with curiosity awakened as +to the man's personality. The man was young--under thirty, and handsome +in a black, curly, quasi-foreign manner. + +Bonbright turned his eyes from the man to the girl at his side. "He +looks--" said Bonbright. + +"How?" she asked, when it was apparent he was not going to finish. + +"As if," he said, musingly, "he wouldn't be the man to call on for a +line smash in the last quarter of a tough game." + +Suddenly the speech came to an end, and the crowd poured on. + +"Good night," said the girl. "I must find Mr. Dulac. I promised I would +walk home with him." + +"Good night," said Bonbright. "His name is Dulac?" + +"Yes." + +Men like Dulac--the work they were engaged upon--had not fallen within +the circle of Bonbright's experience. Bonbright's training and +instincts had all been aristocratic. At Harvard he had belonged to the +most exclusive clubs and had associated with youths of training similar +to his. In his athletics there had been something democratic, but +nothing to impress him with democracy. Where college broadens some men +by its contacts it had not broadened Bonbright, for his contacts had +been limited to individuals chipped from the same strata as himself.... +In his home life, before going to college, this had been even more +marked. As some boys are taught arithmetic and table manners, Bonbright +had been taught veneration for his family, appreciation for his +position in the world, and to look upon himself and the few associates +of his circumscribed world as selected stock, looked upon with especial +favor and graciousness by the Creator of the universe. + +Therefore this sudden dip into reality set him shivering more than it +would another who entered the water by degrees. It upset him.... The +man Dulac stirred to life in him something that was deeper than mere +curiosity. + +"Miss--" said he, and paused. "I really don't know your name." + +"Frazer," she supplied. + +"Miss Frazer, I should like to meet this Dulac. Would you be willing?" + +She considered. It was an unusual request in unusual circumstances, but +why not? She looked up into his boyish face and smiled. "Why not?" she +said, aloud. + +They pressed forward through the crowd until they reached Dulac, +standing beside his barrel, surrounded by a little knot of men. He saw +the girl approaching, and lifted his hand in acknowledgment of her +presence. Presently he came to her, casting a careless glance at +Bonbright. + +"Mr. Dulac," she said, "Mr. Foote has been listening to your speech. He +wants to meet you." + +"Foote!" said Dulac. "Not--" + +"Mr. Bonbright Foote," said the girl. + +Evidently the man was nonplussed. He stared at Bonbright, who extended +his hand. Dulac looked at it, took it mechanically. + +"I heard what you were saying, Mr. Dulac," said Bonbright. "I had never +heard anything like it before--so I wanted to meet you." + +Dulac recovered himself, perceived that here was an opportunity, and +spoke loudly so that the staring, interested workingmen, who now +surrounded them, could hear distinctly. + +"I'm glad you were present," said he. "It is not often we workingmen +catch the ear of you employers so readily. You sit apart from your men +in comfortable offices or in luxurious homes, so they get little +opportunity to talk straight from the shoulder to you.... Even if they +had the chance," he said, with a look about him, "they would not dare. +To be respectful and to show no resentment mean their bread and butter." + +"Resentment?" said Bonbright. "You see I am new to the business and to +this. What is it they resent?" + +"They resent being exploited for the profit of men like yourself.... +They resent your having the power of life and death over them...." + +The girl stood looking from one man to the other; from Dulac, tall, +picturesquely handsome, flamboyant, conscious of the effect of each +word and gesture, to Bonbright, equally tall, something broader, +boyish, natural in his unease, his curiosity. She saw how like he was +to his slender, aristocratic father. She compared the courtesy of his +manner toward Dulac with Dulac's studied brusqueness, conscious that +the boy was natural, honest, really endeavoring to find out what this +thing was all about; equally conscious that Dulac was exercising the +tricks of the platform and utilizing the situation theatrically. Yet he +was utilizing it for a purpose with which she was heart and soul in +sympathy. It was right he should do so.... + +"I wish we might sit down and talk about it," said Bonbright. "There +seem to be two sides in the works, mine and father's--and the men. I +don't see why there should be, and I'd like to have you tell me. You +see, this is my first day in the business, so I don't understand my own +side of it, or why I should have a side--much less the side of the men. +I hadn't imagined anything of the sort.... I wish you would tell me all +about it. Will you?" + +The boy's tone was so genuine, his demeanor so simple and friendly, +that Dulac's weapons were quite snatched from his hands. A crowd of the +men he was sent to organize was looking on--a girl was looking on. He +felt the situation demanded he should show he was quite as capable of +courtesy as this young sprig of the aristocracy, for he knew +comparisons were being made between them. + +"Why," said he, "certainly.... I shall be glad to." + +"Thank you," said Bonbright. "Good night." He turned to the girl and +lifted his hat. "Thank YOU," said he, and eyes in which there was no +unfriendliness followed him as he walked away, eyes of men whom Dulac +was recruiting for the army of the "other side" of the social struggle. + +He hurried home because he wanted to see his father and to discuss this +thing with him. + +"If there is a conflict," he said to himself, "in our business, +workingmen against employer, I suppose I am on the employer's side. +THEY have their reasons. We must have our reasons, too. I must have +father explain it all to me." + +His mother called to him as he was ascending the stairs: + +"Be as quick as you can, Bonbright. We have guests at dinner to-night." + +"Some one I know?" + +"I think not," His mother hesitated. "We were not acquainted when you +went to college, but they have become very prominent in the past four +years.... Mr. and Mrs. Malcolm Lightener--and their daughter," + +Bonbright noticed the slight pause before the mention of the daughter, +and looked quickly at his mother. She looked as quickly away. + +"All right, mother," he said. + +He went to his room with another disturbance added to the many that +disquieted him. Just as certainly as if his mother had put it into +words he knew she had selected this Lightener girl to be Mrs. Bonbright +Foote VII--and the mother of Bonbright Foote VIII. + +"Confound it," he said, "it's started already.... Dam Bonbright Foote +VIII!" + + + + +CHAPTER III + + +Bonbright dressed with a consciousness that he was to be on exhibition. +He wondered if the girl had done the same; if she, too, knew why she +was there and that it was her duty to make a favorable impression on +him, as it was his duty to attract her. It was embarrassing. For a +young man of twenty-three to realize that his family expects him to +make himself alluring to a desirable future wife whom he has never seen +is not calculated to soothe his nerves or mantle him with calmness. He +felt silly. + +However, here HE was, and there SHE would be. There was nothing for it +but to put his best foot forward, now he was caught for the event, but +he vowed it would require more than ordinary skill to entrap him for +another similar occasion. It seemed to him at the moment that the main +object of his life thenceforward would be, as he expressed it, "to +duck" Miss Lightener. + +When he went down the guests had arrived. His mother presented him, +using proudly her formula for such meetings, "Our son." Somehow it +always made him feel like an inanimate object of virtue--as if she had +said "our Rembrandt," or, "our Chippendale sideboard." + +Mrs. Lightener did not impress him. Here was a quiet, motherly +personality, a personality to grow upon one through months and years. +At first meeting she seemed only a gray-haired, shy, silent sort of +person, not to be spoken of by herself as Mrs. Lightener, but in the +reflected rays of her husband, as Malcolm Lightener's wife. + +But Malcolm Lightener--he dominated the room as the Laocoon group would +dominate a ten by twelve "parlor." His size was only a minor element in +that impression. True, he was as great in bulk as Bonbright and his +father rolled in one, towering inches above them, and they were tall +men. It was the jagged, dynamic, granite personality of him that jutted +out to meet one almost with physical impact. You were conscious of +meeting a force before you became conscious of meeting a man. And yet, +when you came to study his face you found it wonderfully human--even +with a trace of granite humor in it. + +Bonbright was really curious to meet this man, whose story had reached +him even in Harvard University. Here was a man who, in ten years of +such dogged determination as affected one almost with awe, had turned a +vision into concrete reality. In a day when the only mechanical +vehicles upon our streets were trolley cars, he had seen those streets +thronged with "horseless carriages." He had seen streets packed from +curb to curb with endless moving processions of them. He had seen the +nation abandon its legs and take to motor-driven wheels. This had been +his vision, and he had made it reality. + +From the place of a master mechanic, at four dollars a day, he had +followed his vision, until the world acknowledged him one of her +richest men, one of her greatest geniuses for organization. In ten +years, lifting himself by his boot straps, he had promoted himself from +earnings of twelve hundred dollars a year to twelve million dollars a +year.... He interested Bonbright as a great adventurer. + +To Hilda Lightener he was presented last. He had expected, hoped, to be +unfavorably impressed; he had known he would be ill at ease, and that +any attempts he made at conversation would be stiff and stilted. ... It +was some moments after his presentation when he realized he felt none +of these unpleasant things. She had shaken hands with him boyishly; her +eyes had twinkled into his--and he was at his ease. Afterward he +studied over the thing, but could not comprehend it.... It had been as +if he were encountering, after a separation, a friend of years--not a +girl friend, but a friend with no complications of sex. + +She was tall, nearly as tall as Bonbright, and she favored her father. +Not that the granite was there. She was not beautiful, not even +pretty--but you liked her looks. Bonbright liked her looks. + +At table Bonbright was seated facing Hilda Lightener. His father at +once took charge of the conversation, giving the boy a breathing space +to collect and appraise his impressions. Presently Mr. Foote said, +impressively: + +"This is an important day in our family, Lightener. My son entered the +business this morning." + +Lightener turned his massive, immobile face toward the boy, his +expression not inviting, yet the seeing might have marked the ghost of +a twinkle in his gray eyes. + +"Um.... Any corrections, amendments, or substitutions to offer?" he +demanded. + +Bonbright looked at him, obviously not comprehending the sarcasm. + +"Most young spriggins I take into MY business," said Lightener, "think +a whole day's experience equips them to take hold and make the whole +thing over.... They can show me where I'm all wrong." + +Bonbright smiled, not happily. He was not accustomed to this sort of +humor, and did not know how to respond to it. + +"It was so big," he said. "It sort of weighed me down--yet--somehow I +didn't get interested till after the whistle blew." + +Lightener grunted. + +"That's what interests most of 'em--getting out of the place after the +whistle blows." + +"Dad!" said Hilda. "What was it interested you then, Mr. Foote?" + +"The men," said Bonbright--"that great mob of men pouring out of the +gates and filling the street.... Somehow they seemed to stand for the +business more than all the buildings full of machinery.... I stood and +watched them." + +Interest kindled in Lightener's eyes. "Yes?" he prompted. + +"It never occurred to me before that being at the head of a business +meant--meant commanding so many men... meant exercising power over all +those lives.... Then there were the wives and children at home...." + +Bonbright's father leaned forward icily. "Son," he said, coldly, "you +haven't been picking up any queer notions in college?" + +"Queer notions?" + +"Socialistic, anarchistic notions. That sort of thing." + +"I don't believe," said Bonbright, with utter honesty, "that I ever +gave the workingman a thought till to-day.... That's why it hit me so +hard, probably." + +"It hit you, eh?" said Lightener. He lifted his hand abruptly to motion +to silence Mr. Foote, who seemed about to interrupt. "Leave the boy +alone, Foote.... This is interesting. Never saw just this thing happen +before.... It hit you hard, eh?" + +"It was the realization of the power of large employers of labor--like +father and yourself, sir." + +"Was that all?" + +"At first.... Then there was a fellow on a barrel making a speech about +us.... I listened, and found out the workingmen realize that we are +sort of czars or some such thing--and resent it. I supposed things were +different. This Dulac was sent here to organize our men into a +union--just why I didn't understand, but he promised to explain it to +me." + +"WHAT?" demanded Bonbright Foote VI, approaching nearer than his wife +had ever seen him to losing his poise. + +"You talked to him?" asked Hilda, leaning forward in her interest. + +"I was introduced to him; I wanted to know.... He was a handsome +fellow. Not a gentleman, of course--" + +"Oh!" Lightener pounced on that expression. "Not a gentleman, eh?... +Expect to find the Harvard manner in a man preaching riot from a potato +barrel?... Well, well, what did he say? How did HE affect you?" + +"He seemed to think the men resented our power over them. Just how +correctly he stated their feeling I don't know, of course. They cheered +his speech, however.... He said father had the power to buy mother a +diamond necklace to-morrow, and cut their wages to pay for it--and they +couldn't help themselves." + +"Well--could they?" + +"I don't know. I didn't understand it all, but it didn't seem right +that those men should feel that way toward us. I want to talk to father +about it--have him explain it to me." + +Lightener chuckled and turned to Mr. Foote. "I don't suppose you +appreciate the humor of that, Foote, the way I do. He's coming to you +for an unbiased explanation of why your employees--feel that way.... +Young fellow," he turned to Bonbright again--"I could come closer to +doing it than your father--because I was one of them once. I used to +come home with grease on my hands and a smudge on my nose, smelling of +sweat." Mrs. Foote repressed a shudder and lowered her eyes. "But I +couldn't be fair about it. Your father has no more chance of explaining +the thing to you--than my wife has of explaining the theory of an +internal-combustion engine.... We employers can't do it. We're on the +other side. We can't see anything but our own side of it." + +"Come now, Lightener, I'm fair-minded. I've even given some study to +the motives of men." + +"And you're writing a book." He shrugged his shoulders. "The sort of +philosophical reflections that go in books aren't the sort to answer +when you're up against the real thing in social unrest.... In your +whole business life you've never really come into contact with your +men. Now be honest, have you?" + +"I've always delegated that sort of thing to subordinates," said Mr. +Foote, stiffly. + +"Which," retorted Mr. Lightener, "is one of the reasons for the +unrest.... That's it. We don't understand what they're up against, nor +what we do to aggravate them." + +"It's the inevitable warfare between capital and labor," said Mr. +Foote. "Jealousy is at the root of it; unsound theories, like this of +socialism, and too much freedom of speech make it all but unbearable." + +"Dulac said they must organize to be in condition to fight us." + +"Organize," said Mr. Foote, contemptuously. "I'll have no unions in my +shop. There never have been unions and there never shall be. I'll put a +sudden stop to that.... Pretty idea, when the men I pay wages to, the +men I feed and clothe, can dictate to me how I shall conduct my +affairs." + +"Yes," said Lightener, "we automobile fellows are non-union, but how +long we can maintain it I don't know. They have their eyes on us and +they're mighty hungry." + +"To-morrow morning," said Mr. Foote, "notices will appear in every +department stating that any man who affiliates with a labor union will +be summarily dismissed." + +"Maybe that will end the thing this time, Foote, but it'll be back. It +'ll be back." + +Hilda leaned forward again and whispered to Bonbright, "You're not +getting much enlightenment, are you?" Her eyes twinkled; it was like +her father's twinkle, but more charming. + +"How," he asked, slowly, "are we ever to make anything of it if we, on +the employers' side, can't understand their point of view, and they +can't understand ours?" + +Mrs. Foote arose. "Let's not take labor unions into the other room with +us," she said. + +Bonbright and Hilda walked in together and immediately engaged in +comfortable conversation; not the sort of nonsense talk usually +resorted to by a young man and a young woman on their first meeting. +They had no awkwardness to overcome, nor was either striving to make an +impression on the other. Bonbright had forgotten who this girl was, and +why she was present, until he saw his mother and Mrs. Lightener +approach each other, cast covert glances in their direction, and then +observe something with evident pleasure. + +"They seem attracted by each other," Mrs. Foote said. + +"He's a nice boy," replied Mrs. Lightener. "I think you're right." + +"An excellent beginning. Propinquity and opportunity ought to do the +rest.... We can see to that." + +Bonbright understood what they were saying as if he had heard it; bit +his lips and looked ruefully from the mothers to Hilda. Her eyes had +just swung from the same point to HIS face, and there was a dancing, +quizzical light in them. SHE understood, too. Bonbright blushed at this +realization. + +"Isn't it funny?" said Hilda, with a little chuckle. "Mothers are +always doing it, though." + +"What?" he asked, fatuously. + +"Rubbish!" she said. "Don't pretend not to understand. I knew YOU knew +what was up the moment you came into the room and looked at me. ... +You--dodged." + +"I'm sure I didn't," he replied, thrown from his equilibrium by her +directness, her frankness, so like her father's landslide directness. + +"Yes, you dodged. You had made up your mind never to be caught like +this again, hadn't you? To make it your life work to keep out of my +way?" + +He dared to look at her directly, and was reassured. + +"Something like that," he responded, with miraculous frankness for a +Foote. + +"Just because they want us to we don't have to do it," she said, +reassuringly. + +"I suppose not." + +"Suppose?" + +"I'm a Foote, you know, Bonbright Foote VII. I do things I'm told to +do. The last six generations have planned it all out for me.... We do +things according to inherited schedules.... Probably it sounds funny to +you, but you haven't any idea what pressure six generations can bring +to bear." He was talking jerkily, under stress of emotion. He had never +opened his mouth on this subject to a human being before, had not +believed it possible to be on such terms with anybody as to permit him +to unbosom himself. Yet here he was, baring his woes to a girl he had +known but an hour. + +"Of course," she said, with her soft, throaty chuckle, "if you really +feel you have to.... But I haven't any six generations forcing ME. Or +do you think yours will take me in hand?" + +"It isn't a joke to me," he said. "How would you like it if the +unexpected--chance--had been carefully weeded out of your future?... It +makes things mighty flat and uninteresting. I'm all wrapped up in +family traditions and precedents so I can't wriggle--like an Indian +baby.... Even THIS wouldn't be so rotten if it were myself they were +thinking about. But they're not. I'm only an incident in the family, so +far as this goes.... It's Bonbright Foote VIII they're fussing +about.... It's my duty to see to it there's a Bonbright Foote VIII +promptly." + +She didn't sympathize with him, or call him "poor boy," as so many less +natural, less comprehending girls would have done. + +"I haven't the least idea in the world," she said, "whether I'll ever +want to marry you or not--and you can't have a notion whether you'll +want me. Suppose we just don't bother about it? We can't avoid each +other--they'll see to that. We might as well be comfortably friendly, +and not go shying off from each other. If it should happen we do want +to marry each other--why, all right. But let's just forget it. I'm sure +I sha'n't marry you just because a lot of your ancestors want me to.... +Folks don't fall in love to order--and you can put this away carefully +in your mind--when I marry it will be because I've fallen in love." + +"You're very like your father," he said. + +"Rushing in where angels fear to tread, you mean? Yes, dad's more +direct than diplomatic, and I inherit it.... Is it a bargain?" + +"Bargain?" + +"To be friends, and not let our mammas worry us.... I like you." + +"Really?" he asked, diffidently. + +"Really," she said. + +"I like you, too," he said, boyishly. + +"We'll take in our Keep Off the Grass signs, then," she said. "Mother +and father seem to be going." She stood up and extended her hand. "Good +night, chum," she said. To herself she was saying what she was too wise +to say aloud: "Poor kid! A chum is what he needs." + + + + +CHAPTER IV + + +Bonbright's first day in the plant had carried no suggestion from his +father as to what his work was actually to be. He had merely walked +about, listening to Rangar's expositions of processes and systems. +After he was in bed that night he began to wonder what work would fall +to him. What work had it been the custom for the heir apparent to +perform? What work had his father and grandfather and great-grandfather +performed when their positions were his position to-day?... Vaguely he +recognized his incompetence to administer anything of importance. +Probably, little by little, detail by detail, matters would be placed +under his jurisdiction until he was safely functioning in the family +groove. + +His dreams that night were of a reluctant, nightmarish passage down a +huge groove, a monotonous groove, whose smooth, insurmountable sides +offered no hint of variety.... As he looked ahead he could see nothing +but this straight groove stretching into infinity. Always he was +disturbed and made wretched by a consciousness of movement, of varied +life and activity, of adventure, of thrill, outside the groove, but +invisible, unreachable.... He strove to clamber up the glassy sides, +only to slip back, realizing the futility of the EFFORT. + +He breakfasted alone, before his father or mother was about, and left +the house on foot, driven by an aching restlessness. It was early. The +factory whistle had not yet blown when he reached the gates, but +already men carrying lunch boxes were arriving in a yawning, sleepy +stream.... Now Bonbright knew why he had arisen early and why he had +come here. It was to see this flood of workmen again; to scrutinize +them, to puzzle over them and their motives and their unrest. He leaned +against the wall and watched. + +He was recognized. Here and there a man offered him good morning with a +friendliness of tone that surprised Bonbright. A good many men spoke to +him respectfully; more regarded him curiously; some hopefully. It was +the occasional friendly smile that affected him. One such smile from an +older workman, a man of intelligent face, of shrewd, gray eyes, caused +Bonbright to move from his place to the man's side. + +"I don't know your name, of course," he said, diffidently. + +"Hooper," said the man, pleasantly. + +"The men seem to know me," Bonbright said. "I was a little surprised. I +only came yesterday, you know." + +"Yes," said Hooper, "they know who you are." + +"They seemed---almost friendly." + +Hooper looked sharply at the young man. "It's because," said he, +"they're pinning hopes to you." + +"Hopes?" + +"Labor can't get anywhere until it makes friends in the ranks of the +employers," said Hooper. "I guess most of the men don't understand +that--even most of the leaders, but it's so. It's got to be so if we +get what we must have without a revolution." + +Bonbright pondered this. "The men think I may be their friend?" + +"Some saw you last night, and some heard you talk to Dulac. Most of +them have heard about it now." + +"That was it?... Thank you, Mr. Hooper." + +Bonbright went up to his office, where he stood at the window, looking +down upon the thickening stream of men as the minute for the starting +whistle approached.... So he was of some importance, in the eyes of the +workingmen, at least! They saw hope in his friendship. ... He shrugged +his shoulders. What could his friendship do for them? He was impotent +to help or harm. Bitterly he thought that if the men wanted friendship +that would be worth anything to them, they should cultivate his dead +forbears. + +Presently he turned to his desk and wrote some personal letters--as a +distraction. He did not know what else to do. There was nothing +connected with the plant that he could set his hand to. It seemed to +him he was just present, like a blank wall, whose reason for existence +was merely to be in a certain place. + +He was conscious of voices in his father's room, and after a time his +father entered and bade him a formal good morning. Bonbright was +acutely conscious of his father's distinguished, cultured, aristocratic +appearance. He was conscious of that manner which six generations of +repression and habit in a circumscribed orbit had bestowed on Bonbright +Foote VI. Bonbright was unconscious of the great likeness between him +and his father; of the fact that at his father's age it would be +difficult to tell them apart. Physically he was out of the Bonbright +Foote mold. + +"Son," said Bonbright Foote VI, "you have made an unfortunate beginning +here. You have created an impression which we shall have to eradicate +promptly." + +"I don't understand." + +"It has been the habit of our family to hold aloof from our employees. +We do not come directly into contact with them. Intercourse between us +and them is invariably carried out through intermediaries." + +Bonbright waited for his father to continue. + +"You are being discussed by every man in the shops. This is peculiarly +unfortunate at this moment, when a determined effort is being made by +organized labor to force unionism on us. The men have the notion that +you are not unfriendly toward unionism." + +"I don't understand it," said Bonbright. "I don't know what my feelings +toward it may be." + +"Your feelings toward it," said his father with decision, "are +distinctly unfriendly." + +Again Bonbright was silent. + +"Last evening," said his father, "you mingled with the men leaving the +shops. You did a thing no member of our family has ever done--consented +to an interview with a professional labor agitator." + +"That is hardly the fact, sir.... I asked for the interview." + +"Which is worse.... You even, as it is reported to me, agreed to talk +with this agitator at some future time." + +"I asked him to explain things to me." + +"Any explanations of labor conditions and demands I shall always be +glad to make. The thing I am trying to bring home to you is that the +men have gotten an absurd impression that you are in sympathy with +them.... Young men sometimes come home from college with unsound +notions. Possibly you have picked up some socialistic nonsense. You +will have to rid yourself of it. Our family has always arrayed itself +squarely against such indefensible theories.... But the thing to do at +once is to wipe out any silly ideas your indiscretion may have aroused +among our workingmen." + +"But I am not sure--" + +"When you have been in this business ten years I shall be glad to +listen to your matured ideas. Now your ideas--your actions at +least-must conform to the policy we have maintained for generations. I +have called some of our department heads to my room. I believe I hear +them assembling. Let us go in." + +Bonbright followed his father mechanically. The next room contained +some ten or twelve subordinate executives who eyed Bonbright curiously. + +"Gentlemen," said the elder Foote, "this is my son, whom you may not +have met as yet. I wish to present him to you formally, and to tell you +that hereafter he and I share the final authority in this plant. +Decisions coming from this office are to be regarded as our joint +decisions--except in the case of an exception of immediate moment. ... +As you know, a fresh and determined effort is afoot to unionize this +plant. My son and I have conferred on the matter, but I have seen fit +to let the decision rest with him, as to our policy and course of +action." + +The men looked with renewed curiosity at the young man who stood, white +of face, with compressed lips and troubled eyes. + +"My son has rightly determined to adhere to the policy established many +years ago. He has determined that unionism shall not be permitted to +enter Bonbright Foote, Incorporated.... I state your sentiments, do I +not, my son?" + +At the direct challenge Bonbright raised his eyes to his father's face +appealingly. "Father--" he said. + +"I state your position?" his father said, sternly. + +Against Bonbright's will he felt the accumulated power of the family +will, the family tradition. He had been reared in its shadow. Its grip +lay firm upon him. Struggle he might, but the strength to defy was not +yet in him.... He surrendered, feeling that, somehow, his private soul +had been violated, his individuality rent from him. + +"Yes," he said, faintly. + +"The first step he has decided upon," said his father, "and one which +should be immediately repressive. It is to post in every room and +department of the shops printed notices to the effect that any man who +affiliates himself with organized labor, or who becomes a member of a +so-called trade-union, will be summarily dismissed from his +employment.... That was the wording you suggested, was it not?" + +"Yes," said Bonbright, this time without struggle. + +"Rangar," said Mr. Foote, "my son directs that these cards be printed +AT ONCE, and put in place before noon. It can be done, can it not?" + +"Yes, sir," said Rangar. + +"I think that is all, gentlemen.... You understand my son's position, I +believe, so that if anyone questions you can answer him effectively?" + +The department heads stirred uneasily. Some turned toward the door, but +one man cleared his throat. + +"Well, Mr. Hawthorne?" said the head of the business. + +"The men seem very determined this time. I'm afraid too severe action +on our part will make trouble." + +"Trouble?" + +"A strike," said Hawthorne. "We're loaded with contract orders, Mr. +Foote. A strike at this time--" + +"Rangar," said Mr. Foote, sharply, "at the first sign of such a thing +take immediate steps to counteract it.... Better still, proceed now as +if a strike were certain. These mills MUST continue uninterruptedly.... +If these malcontents force a strike, Mr. Hawthorne, we shall be able to +deal with it.... Good morning, gentlemen." + +The men filed out silently. It seemed as if they were apprehensive, +almost as if they ventured to disagree with the action of their +employers. But none voiced his disapproval. + +Bonbright stood without motion beside his father's desk, his eyes on +the floor, his lips pressed together. + +"There," said his father, with satisfaction, "I think that will set you +right." + +"Right?... The men will think I was among them last night as a spy!... +They'll despise me.... They'll think I wasn't honest with them." + +Bonbright Foote VI shrugged his shoulders. "Loyalty to your family," he +said, "and to your order is rather more important than retaining the +good will of a mob of malcontents." + +Bonbright turned, his shoulders dropping so that a more sympathetic eye +than his father's might have found itself moistening, and walked slowly +back to his room. He did not sit at his desk, but walked to the window, +where he rested his brow against his hand and looked out upon as much +of the world as he could see.... It seemed large to him, filled with +promise, filled with interests, filled with activities for HIM--if he +could only be about them. But they were held tantalizingly out of reach. + +He was safe in his groove; had not slipped there gradually and +smoothly, but had been thrust roughly, by sudden attack, into it. + +His young, healthy soul cried out in protest against the affront that +had been put upon it. Not that the issue itself had mattered so much, +but that it had been so handled, ruthlessly. Bonbright was no friend to +labor. He had merely been a surprised observer of certain phenomena +that had aroused him to thought. He did not feel that labor was right +and that his father was wrong. It might be his father was very +right.... But labor was such a huge mass, and when a huge mass seethes +it is impressive. Possibly this mass was wrong; possibly its seething +must be stilled for the better interests of mankind. Bonbright did not +know. He had wanted to know; had wanted the condition explained to him. +Instead, he had been crushed into his groove humiliatingly. + +Bonbright was young, to be readily impressed. If his father had +received his uncertainty with kindliness and had answered his hunger's +demand for enlightenment with arguments and reasoning, the crisis +probably would have passed harmlessly. His father had seen fit not to +use diplomacy, but to assert autocratically the power of Bonbright +Foote, Incorporated. Bonbright's individuality had thought to lift its +head; it had been stamped back into its appointed, circumscribed place. + +He was not satisfied with himself. His time for protest had been when +he answered his father's challenge. The force against him had been too +great, or his own strength too weak. He had not measured up to the +moment, and this chagrined him. + +"All I wanted," he muttered, "was to KNOW!" + +His father called him, and he responded apathetically. + +"Here are some letters," said Mr. Foote. "I have made notes upon each +one how it is to be answered. Be so good as to dictate the replies." + +There it was again. He was not even to answer letters independently, +but to dictate to his secretary words put into his mouth by Bonbright +Foote, Incorporated. + +"It will help you familiarize yourself with our routine," said his +father, "and your signature will apprise the recipients that Bonbright +Foote VII has entered the concern." + +He returned to his desk and pressed the buzzer that would summon Ruth +Frazer with book and pencil. She entered almost instantly, and as their +eyes met she smiled her famous smile. It was a thing of light and +brightness, compelling response. In his mood it acted as a stimulant to +Bonbright. + +"Thank you," he said, involuntarily. + +"For what?" she asked, raising her brows. + +"For--why, I'm sure I don't know," he said. "I don't know why I said +that.... Will you take some letters, please?" + +He began dictating slowly, laboriously. It was a new work to him, and +he went about it clumsily, stopping long between words to arrange his +thoughts. His attention strayed. He leaned back in his chair, dictation +forgotten for the moment, staring at Ruth Frazer without really being +conscious of her presence. She waited patiently. Presently he leaned +forward and addressed a question to her: + +"Did you and Mr. Dulac mention me as you walked home?" + +"Yes," she said. + +"Would it be--impertinent," he asked, "to inquire what you said?" + +She wrinkled her brows to aid recollection. + +"Mr. Dulac," she replied, "wondered what you were up to. That was how +he expressed it. He thought it was peculiar--your asking to know him." + +"What did YOU think?" + +"I didn't think it was peculiar at all. You"--she hesitated--"had been +taken sort of by surprise. Yes, that was it. And you wanted to KNOW. I +think you acted very naturally." + +"Naturally!" he repeated after her. "Yes, I guess that must be where I +went wrong. I was natural. It is not right to be natural. You should +first find how you are expected to act--how it is planned for you to +act. Yourself--why, yourself doesn't count." + +"What do you mean, Mr. Foote?" + +"This morning," he said, bitterly, "cards with my name signed to them +have been placed, or will be placed, in every room of the works, +notifying the men that if they join a labor union they will be +discharged." + +"Why--why--" + +"I have made a statement that I am against labor unions." + +She looked at him uncomprehendingly, but somehow compelled to +sympathize with him. He had passed through a bitter crisis of some +sort, she perceived. + +"I am not interested in all those men--that army of men," he went on. +"I don't want to understand them. I don't want to come into contact +with them. I just want to sit here in my office and not be bothered by +such things.... We have managers and superintendents and officials to +take care of labor matters. I don't want to talk to Dulac about what he +means, or why our men feel resentment toward us. Please tell him I have +no interest whatever in such things." + +"Mr. Foote," she said, gently, "something has happened to you, hasn't +it? Something that has made you feel bitter and discouraged?" + +"Nothing unusual--in my family--Miss Frazer. I've just been cut to the +Bonbright Foote pattern. I didn't fit my groove exactly--so I was +trimmed until I slipped into it. I'm in now." + +A sudden tumult of shouts and cheers arose in the street under his +window; not the sound of a score of voices nor of a hundred, but a +sound of great volume. Ruth looked up, startled, frightened. Bonbright +stepped to the window. "It's only eleven o'clock," he said, "but the +men are all coming out.... The whistle didn't blow. They're cheering +and capering and shaking hands with one another. What does that mean, +do you suppose?" + +"I'm afraid," said Miss Frazer, "it's your placard." + +"My placard?" + +"The men had their choice between their unions and their jobs--and +they've stood by their unions." + +"You mean--?" + +"They've struck," said Ruth. + + + + +CHAPTER V + + +There are family traditions among the poor just as there are among the +rich. The families of working-men may cling as tenaciously to their +traditions as the descendants of an earl. In certain families the sons +are compelled by tradition to become bakers, in others machinists; +still other lowly family histories urge their members to conduct of one +sort or another. It is inherent in them to hold certain beliefs +regarding themselves. Here is a family whose tradition is loyalty to +another family which has employed the father, son, grandfather; across +the street may live a group whose peculiar religion is to oppose all +constituted authority and to uphold anarchism. Theories and beliefs are +handed down from generation to generation until they assume the dignity +of blood laws. + +Bonbright was being wrenched to fit into the Foote tradition. Ruth +Frazer, his secretary, needed no alterations to conform to the +tradition of HER family. This was the leveling tradition; the elevating +of labor and the pulling down of capital until there was a dead level +of equality--or, perhaps, with labor a bit in the saddle. Probably a +remote ancestor of hers had been a member of an ancient guild; perhaps +one had risen with Wat Tyler. Not a man of the family, for time beyond +which the memory of man runneth not, but had been a whole-souled, +single-purposed labor man--trade-union man--extremist--revolutionist. +Her father had been killed in a labor riot--and beatified by her. As +the men of her family had been, so were the women--so was she. + +Rights of man, tyranny of capital, class consciousness had been taught +her with her nursery rhymes. She was a zealot. A charming zealot with a +soul that laughed and wanted all mankind to be happy with it--a soul +that translated itself by her famous grin. + +When she thought of capital, of moneyed aristocracy in the mass and in +the abstract, she hated it. It was a thing to be uprooted, plotted +against, reviled. When she met a member of it in the body, and face to +face, as she was meeting Bonbright Foote, she could not hate. He was a +man, an individual. She could not withhold from him the heart-warming +flash of her smile, could not wish him harm. Somehow, in the concrete, +he became a part of mankind, and so entitled to happiness. + +She was sincere. In her heart she prayed for the revolution. Her keen +brain could plan for the overthrow of the enemy and her soul could +sacrifice her body to help to bring it to pass. She believed. She had +faith. Her actions would be true to her faith even at a martyr cost. +But to an individual whom she saw face to face, let him be the very +head and front of the enemy, and she could not wish him personal harm. +To a psychologist this might have presented a complex problem. To Ruth +it presented no problem at all. It was a simple condition and she lived +it. + +She was capable of hero worship, which, after all, is the keystone of +aristocracies. But her heroes were not warriors, adventurers, +conquerors of the world, conquerors of the world's wealth. They were +revolutionists. They were men who gave their lives and their abilities +to laboring for labor.... Already she was inclining to light the fires +of her hero worship at the feet of the man Dulac. + +Ruth Frazer's grin has been spoken of. It has been described as a grin. +That term may offend some sensitive eye as an epithet applicable only +to something common, vulgar. To smile is proper, may even be +aristocratic; only small boys and persons of slack breeding are guilty +of the grin.... Ruth Frazer's grin was neither common nor vulgar. It +was warming, encouraging, bright with the flashing of a quick mind, and +withal sweet, womanly, delicious. Yet that it was a grin cannot be +denied. Enemies to the grin must make the most of it. + +The grin was to be seen, for Dulac had just entered Ruth's mother's +parlor, and it glowed for him. The man seemed out of place in that +cottage parlor. He seemed out of place in any homelike room, in any +room not filled by an eager, sweating, radical crowd of men assembled +to hang upon his words. That was the place for him, the place nature +had created him to become. To see him standing alone any place, on the +street, in a hotel, affected one with the feeling that he was exotic +there, misplaced. He must be surrounded by his audience to be RIGHT. + +Something of this crossed Ruth's mind. No woman, seeing a possible man, +is without her sentimental speculation. She could not conceive of Dulac +in a HOME. + +"It's been a day!" he said. + +"Yes." + +"Every skilled mechanic has struck," he said, with pride, as in a +personal achievement. "And most of the rest. To-night four thousand out +of their five thousand men were with us." + +"It came so suddenly. Nobody thought of a strike this morning." + +"We were better organized than they thought," he said, running his hand +through his thick, black hair, and throwing back his head. "Better than +I thought myself.... I've always said fool employers were the best +friends we organizers have. The placard that young booby slapped the +men in the face with--that did it....That and his spying on us last +night." + +"I'm sure he wasn't spying last night." + +"Bosh! He was mighty quick to try to get our necks under his heel this +morning." + +"I don't know what happened this morning," she said, slowly. "I'm his +secretary, you know. Something happened about that placard. I don't +believe he wanted it to go up." + +"You're defending him? Of course. You're a girl and you're close to the +throne with a soft job. He's a good-looking kid in his namby-pamby +Harvard way, too." + +"Mr. Dulac!...My job--I was going to ask you what I should do. I want +to help the men. I want them to feel that I'm with them, working for +them and praying for them. Ought I to quit, too--to join the strike?" + +Dulac looked at her sharply, calculatingly. "No," he said, presently, +"you can do a lot more good where you are." + +"Will there be trouble? I dread to think of rioting and maybe +bloodshed. It will be bad enough, anyhow--if it lasts long. The poor +women and children!" + +"There'll be trouble if they try to turn a wheel or bring in scab +labor." He laughed, so that his white teeth showed. "The first thing +they did was to telephone for the police. I suppose this kid with a +whole day's experience in the business will be calling in strike +breakers and strong-arms and gunmen....Well, let him bring it down on +himself if he wants to. We're in this thing to win. It means unionism +breaking into this automobile game. This is just the entering wedge." + +"Won't the automobile manufacturers see that, too?" she asked. "Won't +the men have all their power and wealth to fight?" + +Dulac shrugged his shoulders. "I guess the automobile world knows who +Dulac is to-night," he said, with gleaming eyes. + +Somehow the boast became the man. It was perfectly in character with +his appearance, with his bearing. It did not impress Ruth as a brag; it +seemed a natural and ordinary thing for him to say. + +"You've been here just two weeks," she said, a trifle breathlessly; for +he loomed big to her girlish eyes. "You've done all this in two weeks." + +He received the compliment indifferently. Perhaps that was a pose; +perhaps the ego of the man made him impervious even to compliments. +There are men so confident in their powers that a compliment always +falls short of their own estimate of themselves. + +"It's a start--but all our work is only a start. It's preliminary," His +voice became oratorical. "First we must unionize the world. Now there +are strong unions and weak unions--both arrayed against a capital +better organized and stronger than ever before in the world's history. +Unionism is primary instruction in revolution. We must teach labor its +power, and it is slow to learn. We must prepare, prepare, prepare, and +when all is ready we shall rise. Not one union, not the unions of a +state, of a country, but the unions of the world...hundreds of millions +of men who have been ground down by aristocracies and wealth for +generations. Then we shall have such an overturning as shall make the +French Revolution look like child's play....A World's Republic--that's +our aim; a World's Republic ruled by labor!" + +Her eyes glistened as he talked; she could visualize his vision, could +see a united world, cleansed of wars, of boundary lines; a world where +every man's chance of happiness was the equal of every other man's +chance; where wealth and poverty were abolished, from which slums, +degradation, starvation, the sordid wickednesses compelled by poverty, +should have vanished. She could see a world of peace, plenty, beauty. + +It was for this high aim that Dulac worked. His stature increased. She +marveled that such a man could waste his thoughts upon her. She +idealized him; her soul prostrated itself before him. + +So much of accomplishment lay behind him--and he not yet thirty years +old! The confidence reposed in him by labor was eloquently testified to +by the sending of him to this important post on the battle line. +Already he had justified that confidence. With years and experience +what heights might he not climb!...This was Ruth's thought. Beside +Dulac's belief in himself and his future it was colorless. + +Dulac had been an inmate of the Frazer cottage two weeks. In that time +he had not once stepped out of his character. If his attitude toward +the world were a pose it had become so habitual as to require no +objective prompting or effort to maintain. This character was that of +the leader of men, the zealot for the cause of the under dog. It held +him aloof from personal concerns. Individual affairs did not touch him, +but functioned unnoticed on a plane below his clouds. Not for an +instant had he sought the friendship of Ruth and her mother, not to +establish relations of friendship with them. He was devoted to a cause, +and the cause left no room in his life for smaller matters. He was a +man apart. + +Now he was awkwardly tugging something from his pocket. Almost +diffidently he offered it to Ruth. It was a small box of candy. + +"Here..." he said, clumsily. + +"For me!" Ruth was overpowered. This demigod had brought HER a gift. He +had thought about her--insignificant her! True, she had talked with +him, had even taken walks with him, but those things had not been +significant. It had seemed he merely condescended to the daughter of a +martyr to his cause. He had been paying a tribute to her father. But a +gift--a personal gift such as any young man might make to a girl whose +favor he sought! Could it mean...? + +Then she saw that he was embarrassed, actually embarrassed before her, +and she was ashamed of herself for it. But she saw, too, that in him +was a human man, a man with fears and sensations and desires and +weaknesses like other men. After all, a demigod is only half of Olympus. + +"Thank you," she said. "Thank you SO much." + +"You're not--offended?" + +He was recovering himself. In an instant he was back again in character. + +"We men," he said, "who are devoted to the Cause have little time in +our lives for such things. The Cause demands all. When we go into it we +give up much that other men enjoy. We are wanderers. We have no homes. +We can't AFFORD to have homes....I," he said, it proudly, "have been in +jail more than once. A man cannot ask a woman to share such a life. A +man who leads such a life has no place in it for a woman." + +"I should think," she said, "that women would be proud to share such a +life. To know they were helping a little! To know they were making one +comfortable spot for you to come to and rest when you were tired or +discouraged...." + +"Comforts are not for us," he said, theatrically, yet he did not seem +theatrical to her, only nobly self-sacrificing. + +"It isn't right," she said, passionately. "The poorest laborer has more +than you. He has his home and his family. No matter how poor he is, no +matter what he suffers, he has some compensations....And you--you're +giving your life and everything in life that's bright and beautiful for +that laborer." + +"The happiness of one man buying the happiness of millions," he said, +his black eyes glowing. "Yet sometimes we have our weak moments. We see +and we desire." + +"And are entitled to possess," she said. + +His eyes glowed upon her hungrily--she read the hunger in them, hunger +for HER! It frightened her, yet it made her heart leap with pride. To +be looked upon with favor by such a man! + +"Some women," he said, slowly, "might live through it. There are women +big enough and strong enough--a few, maybe. Big enough to endure +neglect and loneliness; to live and not know if their husbands would +sleep at home that night or in a jail or be in the middle of a riot on +the other side of the world! They could not even depend on their +husbands for support....A few might not complain, might be able to +endure....You, Miss Ruth--I believe you are one of them!" + +Her cheeks paled. Was he--could he be about to ask her to share his +life? It was impossible! Yet what else could he mean? To what else +could his words be tending? She was awed, frightened--yet warmed by a +surge of pride. She thought of her father....If he could see and know! +If knowledge could only pass to him that his daughter had been thought +worthy by such a man to play her part for the Cause!...She waited +tensely, hand pressed to her bosom. + +Dulac stepped toward her, barbarically handsome. She felt the force, +the magnetism of him. It called to her, compelled her....She could not +lift her eyes. + +Slowly he approached another step. It was as though he were forced to +her against his will. The silence in the room was the tense silence of +a human crisis....Then it was broken ruthlessly. There came a pounding +on the door that was not a knock, but an alarm. It was imperative, +excited, ominous. + +"Oh..." Ruth cried. + +Her mother was opening the door. + +"Dulac! Where's Dulac?" a man's voice demanded. + +"Here," he replied. "What is it?" + +"O'Hagan's in town," the man panted, rushing into the room. "They've +brought in O'Hagan and his gang of bullies." + +O'Hagan, king of strike breakers! Ruth knew that name well, and what +the arrival of the man of evil omen foretold. It promised violence, +riot, bloodshed, suffering. + +"They're going to try to run, then," said Dulac, calmly. + +"The police have escorted a mob of scabs into the mill yards. They've +tried to drive away our pickets. They've locked up Higgins and Bowen. +Got Mason, too, but the crowd took him away from the police." + +"It's on their own heads," said Dulac, solemnly. "I'll come with you." +He turned to Ruth and took her hand. "You see," he said, "it calls me +away--even from a moment like that...." + + + + +CHAPTER VI + + +Malcolm Lightener was not a man to send messages nor to depend upon +telephones. He was as direct as a catapult, and was just as regardful +of ceremony. The fact that it was his and everybody else's dinner hour +did not hold him back an instant from having himself driven to the +Foote residence and demanding instant speech with Mr. Foote. + +Mr. Foote, knowing Lightener, shrugged his shoulders and motioned +Bonbright to follow him from the table. + +"If we asked him to be seated and wait," said he, "Lightener would +burst into the dining room." + +They found their visitor not seated, but standing like a granite +monolith in the center of the library. + +"Well," he said, observing no formalities of greeting, "you've chucked +a brick into the hornets' nest." + +"Won't you be seated?" asked Mr. Foote, with dignified courtesy. + +"Seated? No, I've got no time for seats, and neither have you, if you +would wake up to it. Do you know what you've done with your +bullheadedness? You've rammed the automobile manufacturers up against a +crisis they've been dodging for years. Needlessly. There was no more +need for this strike at this time than there is for fur overcoats in +hell. But just when the hornets were stirred up and buzzing, you had to +heave your brick.... And now we've got to back your play." + +"I am not aware," said Mr. Foote, icily, "that we have asked +assistance." + +"If the house next to mine catches fire the owner doesn't have to +holler to me for help. I've got to help to keep the blaze from +spreading to my own house.... You've never thought beyond the +boundaries of Bonbright Foote, Incorporated--that's what's the matter +with you. You're hidebound. A blind man could see the unions look at +this thing as their entering wedge into the automobile industry. If +they break into you they'll break into us. So we've got to stop 'em +short." + +"If we need any help--" Mr. Foote began. + +"Whether you need it or whether you want it," said Lightener, "you get +it." + +"Let me point out to you," said Mr. Foote, with chilly courtesy, "that +my family has been able to manage its business for several +generations--with some small success.... Our relations with our +employees are our own concern, and we shall tolerate no interference. +... I have placed my son in complete charge of this situation, with +confidence that he will handle it adequately." + +"Huh!" grunted Lightener, glancing at Bonbright. "I heard about THAT. +... What I came to say principally was: This thing can be headed off +now if you go at it with common sense. Make concessions. Get to this +Dulac. You can get your men back to work--and break up this union +thing." + +"Mr. Lightener, our course is decided on. We shall make no concessions. +My son has retained O'Hagan, the strike breaker. To-morrow morning the +mills start up as usual, with new men. We have them camped in the yards +now. There shall be no compromising. When we have the strikers whipped +into their places we'll talk to them--not before." + +"What's the idea of putting up the boy as stalking horse? What do you +expect to get by hiding behind him?" + +"My son was indiscreet. He created a misapprehension among the men as +to his attitude toward labor. I am merely setting them right." + +"And sewing a fine crop of hatred for the boy to reap." + +Mr. Foote shrugged his shoulders "The position of my family has not +been doubtful since the inception of our business. I do not propose +that my son shall make it so. Our traditions must be maintained." + +"If you'd junk a few traditions," said Lightener, "and import a little +modern efficiency--and human understanding of human beings--you might +get somewhere. You quit developing with that first ancestor of yours. +If the last hundred years or so haven't been wasted, there's been some +progress. You're wabbling along in a stage coach when other folks use +express trains.... When I met the boy here last night, I thought he was +whittled off a different stick from the rest of you.... I guess he was, +too. But you're tying a string of ancestors around his neck and +squeezing him into their likeness." + +"My son knows his duty to his family," said Mr. Foote. + +"I didn't have a family to owe duty to, thank God," said Lightener, +"but I spent quite some time figuring out my duty to myself.... You +won't listen to reason, eh? You're going to bull this thing through?" + +"My son will act as my son should act," said Mr. Foote. + +Lightener turned to where Bonbright stood with set face and eyes that +smoldered, and studied him with an eye accustomed to judging men. + +"There'll be rioting," he said. "Probably there'll be bloodshed. +There'll certainly be a devil of a lot of suffering. Your father is +putting the responsibility for it on your shoulders, young fellow. Does +that set comfortably on your mind?" + +Bonbright was slow to answer. His position was difficult, for it seemed +to him he was being asked by a stranger to criticize his father and his +family. His own unrest under the conditions which were forced upon him +was not to be mentioned. The major point--the conflict between capital +as represented by Bonbright Foote, Incorporated, and labor--as +represented by the striking employees--he did not understand. He had +wanted to understand it; he had felt a human interest in the men, but +this was forbidden to him.... Whatever he felt, whatever he thought, +whatever dread he might have of the future as it impended over +himself--he must be loyal to his name. So when he spoke it was to say +in a singularly unboyish voice: + +"My father has spoken for me, Mr. Lightener." + +For the first time Lightener smiled. He laid a heavy hand on +Bonbright's shoulder. "That was well done, my boy," he said. Bonbright +was grateful for his understanding. + +A servant appeared. "Mr. Bonbright is wanted on the telephone," she +said. + +It was Rangar. "There's rioting at the plant," the man said, +unemotionally. "I have notified the police and taken the necessary +steps." + +"Very well," said Bonbright. He walked to the library, and, standing in +the door, stirred by excitement so that his knees quivered and a great +emptiness was within him, he said to his father, "There's rioting at +the plant, sir." + +Then he turned, put on his coat and hat, and quietly left the house. + +There was rioting at the mills! Bonbright was going to see what rioting +was like, what it meant. It was no impulse, no boyish spirit of +adventure or curiosity, that was taking him, but a command. No sooner +had Rangar spoken the words over the telephone than Bonbright knew he +must go. + +"Whatever is happening," he said to himself, "I'm going to be blamed +for it." + +With some vague juvenile notion of making himself unrecognizable he +turned up the collar of his coat and pulled down his cap.... + +When still some blocks from the mills a patrol wagon filled with +officers careened past him, its gong emitting a staccato, exciting +alarm. Here was reality. Bonbright quickened his step; began to run. +Presently he entered the street that lay before the face of the +factory--a street lighted by arc lamps so that the scene was adequately +visible. As far as the main gates into the factory yards the street was +in the possession of the police; beyond them surged and clamored the +mob, not yet wrought to the pitch of attack. Bonbright thought of a +gate around the corner. He would enter this and ascend to his office, +whence he could watch the street from his window. + +Before the gate a man sat on a soap box, a short club dangling by a +thong from his wrist. As Bonbright approached he arose. + +"What you want?" he demanded, taking a businesslike grip on his weapon. + +"I want to go in," said Bonbright. "I'm Mr. Foote." + +The man grinned. "To be sure, Mr. Foote. Howdy, Mr. Foote. You'll be +glad to meet me. I'm Santa Claus." + +"I tell you I'm Mr. Foote. I want to go inside." + +"And I tell you," said the man, suddenly dropping his grin, "to beat +it--while you're able." + +Youthful rage sent its instant heat through Bonbright. For an instant +he meditated jerking the man from that gate by the nape of the neck and +teaching him a lesson with his athletic foot.... It was not fear of the +result that deterred him; it was the thought that this man was his own +employee, placed there by him for this very purpose. If the guard made +HIM bristle with rage, how would the sight of the man and his club +affect the strikers? He was a challenge and an insult, an invitation to +violence. Bonbright turned and walked away, followed by a derisive +guffaw from the strike breaker. + +Bonbright retraced his steps and approached the rear of the police. +Here he was stopped by an officer. + +"Where you goin'?" + +"I'm Mr. Foote," said Bonbright. "I want to see what's happening." + +"I can't help it if you're Mr. Roosevelt, you can't go any farther than +this.... Now GIT." He gave Bonbright a violent and unexpected shove, +which almost sent the young man off his feet. He staggered, recovered +himself, and stood glowering at the officer. "Move!" came the short +command, and once more burning with indignation, he obeyed. Here was +another man acting in his behalf, summoned to his help. It was thus the +police behaved, roughly, intolerantly, neither asking nor accepting +explanations. It did not seem to Bonbright this could be the right way +to meet the emergency. It seemed to him calculated only to aggravate +it. The application of brute force might conquer a mob or stifle a +riot, but it would leave unquenched fires of animosity. A violent +operation may be necessary to remove a malignant growth. It may be the +only possible cure; but no physician would hope to cure typhoid fever +by knocking the patient insensible with a club. True, the delirium +would cease for a time, but the deep-seated ailment would remain and +the patient only be the worse for the treatment.... Here the disease +was disagreement, misunderstanding, suspicion, bitterness of heart +between employer and employees. Neither hired strike breaker nor +policeman's baton could get to the root of it.... Yet he, Bonbright +Foote VII, was the man held out to all the world as favoring this +treatment, as authorizing it, as ordering it! + +He walked quite around the block, approaching again on a side street +that brought him back again just ahead of the police. This street was +blocked by excited, restless, crowding, jeering men, but Bonbright +wormed his way through and climbed upon a porch from which he could see +over the heads of the foremost to where a line of police and the front +rank of strikers faced each other across a vacant space of pavement, +the square at the intersection of the streets. + +Behind him a hatless man in a high state of excitement was making an +inflammatory speech from a doorstep. He was urging the mob to charge +the police, to trample them under.... Bonbright leaned far over the +railing so he could look down the street where the main body of the mob +was assembled. There was another speaker. Bonbright recognized +Dulac--and Dulac, with all his eloquence, was urging the men to +disperse to their homes in quiet. Bonbright listened. The man was +talking sense! He was pointing out the folly of mob violence! He was +showing them that it achieved nothing.... But the mob was beyond the +control of wise counsel. Possibly the feet of many had pressed brass +rails while elbows crooked. Certainly there was present a leaven of +toughs, idlers, in no way connected with the business, but sent by the +devil to add to the horror of it. + +One of these, discreetly distant from the front, hurled half a brick +into the line of police. It was a vicious suggestion. Other bricks and +missiles followed, while the crowd surged forward. Suddenly the line of +patrolmen opened to let through a squad of mounted police, who charged +the mob.... It was a thing requiring courage, but a thing ordered by an +imbecile. + +Horses and men plunged into that dammed river of men.... It was a scene +Bonbright could never erase from his memory, yet never could have +described. It was a nightmare, a sensation of dread rather than a scene +of fierce, implacable action. + +The police drew back. The strikers hesitated.... Between them, on the +square of pavement, lay quiet, or writhing in pain, half a dozen human +forms.... Bonbright, his face colorless as those who lay below, stared +at the bodies. For this that he saw he would be held responsible by the +world.... + +He ran down the steps and began struggling through the mob. "Let me +through.... Let me through," he panted. + +He broke through to the front, not moved by reason, but quivering with +the horror of the sight of men needlessly slain or maimed.... He must +do something. He must stop it! + +Then he Was recognized. "It's young Foote," a man shouted, and snatched +at his shoulder. He shook the man off, but the cry was taken up. "It's +Foote--young Foote.... Spying again." + +Men sprang upon him, but he turned furiously and hurled them back. They +must not stop him. He must not be interfered with, because he had to +put an end to this thing. The mob surged about him, striking, +threatening, so that he had to turn his face toward them, to strike out +with his fists. More than one man went down under his blows before he +could break away and run toward the police. + +"See what you've done," he shouted in their faces. "This must stop." He +advanced another step, as if to force the mounted officers to retreat. + +"Grab him," ordered a sergeant. + +Bonbright was promptly grabbed and hauled through the line of mounted +police, to be thrown into the arms of waiting patrolmen. He fought as +strength was given him to fight, but they carried him ungently and +hurled him asprawl upon the floor of a patrol wagon, already well +occupied by arrests from the mob. + +"Git 'em to the station," the driver was ordered, and off lurched the +patrol wagon. + +That rapid ride brought cooling to Bonbright's head. He had made a fool +of himself. He was ashamed, humiliated, and to be humiliated is no +minor torture to a young man. + +Instead of giving his name to the lieutenant on the desk he refused to +give a name, and was entered as John Doe. It was his confused thought +to save his family from publicity and disgrace.... So he knew what it +was to have barred doors shut upon him, to be alone in a square cell +whose only furnishing was a sort of bench across one end. He sank upon +this apathetically and waited for what morning should bring. + + + + +CHAPTER VII + + +The world owes no small part of its advancement to the reflections of +men in jails. + +Bonbright, alone in the darkness of his cell, was admirably situated +for concentrated thought. All through the sleepless night he reviewed +facts and theories and conditions. He reached few definite conclusions, +and these more boyish than mature; he achieved to no satisfaction with +himself. His one profound conclusion was that everything was wrong. +Capital was wrong, labor was wrong; the whole basis upon which society +is organized was wrong. It was an exceedingly sweeping conclusion, +embracing EVERYTHING. He discerned no ray of light. + +He studied his own conduct, but could convince himself of no voluntary +wrongdoing. Yet he was in a cell.... In the beginning he had merely +tried to understand something that aroused his curiosity--labor. From +the point of view of capital, as represented by his father, this had +been a sin. How or why it was a sin he could not comprehend.... Labor +had been willing to be friendly, but now it hated him. Orders given in +his name, but not originating in his will, had caused this. His +attitude became fatalistic--he was being moved about by a ruthless hand +without regard to his own volition. He might as well close his eyes and +his mind and submit, for Bonbright Foote VII did not exist as a +rational human individual, but only as a checker on the board, to be +moved from square to square with such success or error as the player +possessed. + +Last night.... He had been mishandled by the employees of capital and +the guardians of society; he had been mobbed by labor. He resented the +guard and the police, but could not resent the mobbing. ... He seemed +to be dangling between two worlds, mishandled by either that he +approached. But one fact he realized--labor would have none of him. His +father had seen to that. There was no place for him to go but into the +refuge of capital, and so to become an enemy to labor against which he +had no quarrel.... This night set him more deeply in the Bonbright +Foote groove. There was nothing for him now but complete submission, +apathetic submission. + +If it must be so, it must be so. He would let the family current bear +him on. He would be but another Bonbright Foote, differentiated from +the others only by a numeral to designate his generation. + +Singularly, his own immediate problem did not present itself +insistently until daylight began to penetrate the murk of the cell. +What would the authorities do with him? How was he to get his liberty? +Would the thing become public? He felt his helplessness, his +inadequacy. He could not ask his father to help him, for he did not +want his father ever to know what had happened the night before, yet he +must have help from some one. Suddenly the name of Malcolm Lightener +occurred to him. + +After a time the doorman appeared with breakfast. + +"Can I send a message?" asked Bonbright. + +The doorman scrutinized him, saw he was no bum of the streets, but +quite evidently a gentleman in temporary difficulty. + +"Maybe," he said, grudgingly. "Gimme the message and I'll see." + +"Please telephone Mr. Malcolm Lightener that the younger of the +gentlemen he called on last evening is here and would like to see him." + +"Malcolm Lightener, the automobile feller?" + +"Yes." + +"Friend of your'n?" + +"Yes." + +"Um!..." The doorman disappeared to return presently with the +lieutenant. + +"What's this about Malcolm Lightener?" the officer asked. + +"I gave the man here a message for him," said Bonbright. + +"Is it on the level? You know Lightener?" + +"Yes," said Bonbright, impatiently. + +"Then what the devil did you stay here all night for? Why didn't you +have him notified last night? Looks darn fishy to me." + +"It will do no harm to deliver my message," said Bonbright. + +"Huh!... Let him out." The doorman swung wide the barred door and the +lieutenant motioned Bonbright out. "Come and set in the office," he +said. "Maybe you'd rather telephone yourself?" + +"If I might," said Bonbright, amazed at the potency of Lightener's name +to open cell doors and command the courtesy of the police. It was his +first encounter with Influence. + +He was conducted into a small office; then the lieutenant retired +discreetly and shut the door. Bonbright made his call and asked for +speech with Malcolm Lightener. + +"Hello!... Hello!" came Lightener's gruff voice. "What is it?" + +"This is Bonbright Foote.... I'm locked up in the Central Station. I +wonder if you can't help me somehow?" + +There was a moment's silence; then Bonbright heard a remark not +intended for his ears but expressive of Lightener's astonishment, +"Well, I'm DARNED!" Then: "I'll be right there. Hold the fort." + +Bonbright opened the door and said to the lieutenant, "Mr. Lightener's +on his way down." + +"Um!... Make yourself comfortable. Say, was that breakfast all right? +Find cigars in that top drawer." The magic of Influence! + +In twenty minutes Lightener's huge form pushed through the station +door. "Morning, Lieutenant. Got a friend of mine here?" + +"Didn't know he was a friend of yours, Mr. Lightener. He wouldn't give +his name, and never asked to have you notified till this morning.... +He's in my office there." + +Lightener strode into the room and shut the door. + +"Well?" he demanded. + +Breathlessly, almost without pause, Bonbright poured upon him an +account of last night's happenings, making no concealments, +unconsciously giving Lightener glimpses into his heart that made the +big man bend his brows ominously. The boy did not explain; did not +mention accusingly his father, but Lightener understood perfectly what +the process of molding Bonbright was being subjected to. He made no +comment. + +"I don't want father to know this," Bonbright said. "If it can be kept +out of the papers.... Father wouldn't understand. He'd feel I had +disgraced the family." + +"Doggone the family," snapped Lightener. "Come on." + +Bonbright followed him out. + +"May I take him along, Lieutenant? I'll fix it with the judge if +necessary.... And say, happen to recognize him?" + +"Never saw him before." + +"If any of the newspaper boys come snoopin' around, you never saw me, +either. Much obliged, Lieutenant." + +"You're welcome, Mr. Lightener. Glad I kin accommodate you." + +Lightener pushed Bonbright into his limousine. "You don't want to go +home, I guess. We'll go to my house. Mother'll see you get breakfast. +... Then we'll have a talk.... Here's a paper boy; let's see what's +doing." + +It was the morning penny paper that Lightener bought, the paper with +leanings toward the proletariat, the veiled champion of labor. He +bought it daily. + +"Huh!" he grunted, as he scanned the first page. "They kind of allude +to you." + +Bonbright looked. He saw a two-column head: + +YOUNG MILLIONAIRE URGES ON POLICE + +The next pyramid contained his name; the story related how he had +rushed frantically to the police after they had barbarously charged a +harmless gathering of workingmen, trampling and maiming half a dozen, +and had demanded that they charge again. It was a long story, with +infinite detail, crucifying him with cheap ink; making him appear a +ruthless, heartless monster, lusting for the spilled blood of the +innocent. + +Bonbright looked up to meet Lightener's eyes. + +"It--it isn't fair," he said, chokingly. + +"Fairness," said Lightener, almost with gentleness, "is expected only +when we are young." + +"But I didn't.... I tried to stop them." + +"Don't try to tell anybody so--you won't be believed." + +"I'm going to tell somebody," said Bonbright, his mind flashing to Ruth +Frazer, "and I'm going to be believed. I've got to be believed." + +After a while he said: "I wasn't taking sides. I just went there to +see. If I've got to hire men all my life I want to understand them." + +"You've got to take sides, son. There's no straddling the fence in this +world.... And as soon as you've taken sides your own side is all you'll +understand. Nobody ever understood the other side." + +"But can't there ever be an understanding? Won't capital ever +understand labor, or labor capital?" + +"I suppose a philosopher would say there is no difference upon which +agreement can't be reached; that there must somewhere be a common +meeting ground.... The Bible says the lion shall lie down with the +lamb, but I don't expect to live to see him do it without worrying some +about the lion's teeth." + +"It's one man holding power over other men," said Bonbright. + +As the car stopped at Malcolm Lightener's door, sudden panic seized +Bonbright. + +"I ought not to come here," he said, "after last night. Mrs. +Lightener... your daughter." + +"I'll bet Hilda's worrying you more than her mother. Nonsense! They +both got sense." + +Certainly Mrs. Lightener had. + +"Just got him out of the police station," her husband said as he led +the uncomfortable Bonbright into her presence. "Been shut up all +night.... Rioting--that's what he's been doing. Throwing stones at the +cops." + +Mrs. Lightener looked at Bonbright's pale, weary, worried face. "You +let him be, Malcolm.... Never mind HIM," she said to the boy. "You just +go right upstairs with him. A warm bath and breakfast are what you +need. You don't look as if you'd slept a WINK." + +"I haven't," he confessed. + +When Bonbright emerged from the bath he found the motherly woman had +sent out to the haberdashers for fresh shirt, collar, and tie. He +donned them with the first surge of genuine gratefulness he had ever +known. Of course he had said thank you prettily, and had thought he +felt thanks.... Now he knew he had not. + +"Guess you won't be afraid to face Hilda now," said Lightener, entering +the room. "I notice a soiled collar is worn with a heap more misgiving +than a soiled conscience.... Grapefruit, two soft-boiled eggs, toast, +coffee.... Some prescription." + +Hilda was in the library, and greeted him as though it were an ordinary +occurrence to have a young man just out of the cell block as a +breakfast guest. She did not refer to it, nor did her father at the +moment. Bonbright was grateful again. + +After breakfast the boy and girl were left alone in the library, +briefly. + +"I'm ashamed," said Bonbright, chokingly. + +"You needn't be," she said. "Dad told us all about it. I thought the +other night I should like you. Now I'm sure of it." She owned her +father's directness. + +"You're good," he said. + +"No--reasonable," she answered. + +He sat silent, thinking. "Do you know," he said, presently, "what a lot +girls have to do with making a fellow's life endurable?... Since I went +to work I--I've felt really GOOD only twice. Both times it was a girl. +The other one just grinned at me when I was feeling down on my luck. It +was a dandy grin.... And now you..." + +"Tell me about her," she said. + +"She's my secretary now. Little bit of a thing, but she grins at all +the world... Socialist, too, or anarchist or something. I made them +give her to me for my secretary so I could see her grin once in a +while." + +"I'd like to see her." + +"I don't know her," said Bonbright. "She's just my secretary. I'll bet +she'd be bully to know." + +Hilda Lightener would not have been a woman had she not wondered about +this girl who had made such an impression on Bonbright. It was not that +she sensed a possible rival. She had not interested herself in +Bonbright to the point where a rival could matter. But--she would like +to see that girl. + +Malcolm Lightener re-entered the room. + +"Clear out, honey," he said to his daughter. "Foote and I have got to +make medicine." + +She arose. "If he rumbles like a volcano," she said to Bonbright, +"don't be afraid. He just rumbles. Pompeii is in no danger." + +"You GIT," her father said. + +"Now," he said when they were alone, "what's to pay?" + +"I don't know." + +"Will your father raise the devil? Maybe you'd like to have me go along +when you interview him." + +"I think I'd rather not." + +Lightener nodded with satisfaction. + +"Well, then--I've kind of taken a shine to you. You're a young idiot, +all right, but there's something about you.... Let's start off with +this: You've got something that's apt to get you into hot water. Either +it's fool curiosity or genuine interest in folks. I don't know which. +Neither fits into the Bonbright Foote formula. Six generations of 'em +seem to have been whittled off the same chip--and then the knife +slipped and you came off some other chip altogether. But the Foote chip +don't know it, and won't recognize it if it does.... I'm not going to +criticize your father or your ancestors, whatever kind of darn fools I +may personally think they are. What I want to say is, if you ever kick +over the traces, drop in and tell me about it. I'll see you on your +road." + +"Thanks," said Bonbright, not half comprehending. + +"You can't keep on pressing men out of the same mold forever. Maybe you +can get two or three or a dozen to be as like as peas--and then nature +plays a joke on you. You're the joke on the Foote mold, I reckon. Maybe +they can squeeze you into the form and maybe they can't.... But +whatever happens is going to be darn unpleasant for you." + +Bonbright nodded. THAT he knew well. + +"You've got a choice. You can start in by kicking over the traces--with +the mischief to pay; or you can let the vanished Footes take a crack at +you to see what that can make of you. I advise no boy to run against +his father's wishes. But everybody starts out with something in him +that's his own--individual--peculiar to him. Maybe it's what the +preachers call his soul. Anyhow, it's HIS. Whatever they do to you, try +to hang on to it. Don't let anybody pump it out of you and fill its +room with a standardized solution. Get me?" + +"I think so." + +"I guess that's about, all from me. Now run along to your dad. Got any +idea what will happen?" + +Bonbright studied the rug more than a minute before he answered. + +"I think I was right last night. Maybe I didn't go about it the way I +should, but I INTENDED right. At least I didn't intend WRONG. Father +will be--displeased. I don't think I can explain it to him... " + +"Uh!" grunted Lightener. + +"So I--I guess I sha'n't try," Bonbright ended. "I think I'll go along +and have it over with." + +When he was gone Malcolm Lightener made the following remark to his +wife, who seemed to understand it perfectly: + +"Some sons get born into the wrong families." + + + + +CHAPTER VIII + + +Bonbright entered his office with the sensations of a detected juvenile +culprit approaching an unavoidable reckoning. If there was a ray of +brightness in the whole episode it was that the newspapers had +miraculously been denied the meatiest bit of his night's adventure--his +detention in a cell. If that had been flaunted before the eyes of the +public Bonbright felt he would never have been able to face his father. + +He was vividly aware of the stir his entrance caused among the office +employees. It was as though the heart of the office skipped a beat. He +flushed, and, with eyes straight before him, hurried into his own room +and sat in his chair. He experienced a quivering, electric +emptiness--his nerves crying out against an approaching climax. It was +blood-relative to panic. + +Presently he was aware that his father stood in the door scrutinizing +him. Bonbright's eyes encountered his father's. They seemed to lock ... +In that tense moment the boy was curiously aware how perfectly his +father's physical presence stood for and expressed his theory of being. +Tall, unbending, slender, aristocratic, intellectual--the pose of the +body, the poise of the head, even that peculiar, slanting set of the +lips expressed perfectly the Bonbright Foote idea. Five generations had +bred him to be the perfect thing it desired. + +"Well, sir," he said, coldly. Bonbright arose. There was a formality +about the situation which seemed to require it. "Good morning," he +said, in a low tone. + +"I have seen the papers." + +"Yes, sir." + +"What they printed was in substance true?" + +"I prefer not--to discuss it, sir." + +"And _I_ prefer TO discuss it... Do you fancy you can drag the name of +Foote through the daily press as though it were that of some dancing +girl or political mountebank, and have no reference made of it? Tell me +exactly what happened last night--and why it was permitted to happen." + +"Father--" Bonbright's voice was scarcely audible, yet it was alive and +quivering with pain. "I cannot talk to you about last night." + +The older man's lips compressed. "You are a man grown--are supposed to +be a man grown. Must I cross-examine you as if you were a sulking +schoolboy?" + +Bonbright was not defiant, not sulkily stubborn. His night's +experiences had affected, were affecting him, working far-reaching +changes in him, maturing him. But he was too close to them for their +effect to have been accomplished. The work was going on each moment, +each hour. He did not reply to his father immediately, but when he did +so it was with a certain decision, a firmness, a lack of the old +boyishness which was marked and distinct. + +"You must not cross-question me. There are things about which one's own +father has not the right to ask.... If I could have come to you +voluntarily--but I could not. In college I have seen fellows get into +trouble, and the first thing they thought of was to go to their fathers +with it... It was queer. What happened last night happened to ME. +Possibly it will have some effect on my family and on the name of +Foote, as you say... But it happened to ME. Nobody else can understand +it. No one has the right to ask about it." + +"It happened to YOU! Young man, you are the seventh Bonbright +Foote--member of a FAMILY. What happens to you happens to it. You +cannot separate yourself from it. You, as an individual, are not +important, but as Bonbright Foote VII you become important. Do you +imagine you can act and think as an entity distinct from Bonbright +Foote, Incorporated?... Nonsense. You are but one part of a whole; what +you do affects the whole, and you are responsible for it to the shops." + +"A man must be responsible to himself," said Bonbright, fumbling to +express what was troubling his soul. "There are bigger things than +family..." + +His father had advanced to the desk. Now he interrupted by bringing his +hand down upon it masterfully. "For you there is no bigger thing than +family. You have a strange idea. Where did you get it? Is this sort of +thing being taught in college to-day? I suppose you have some notion of +asserting your individuality. Bosh! Men in your position, born as you +have been born, have no right to individuality. Your individuality must +express the individuality of your family as mine has done, and as my +father's and HIS father's did before me... I insist that you explain +fully to me what occurred last night." + +"I am sorry, sir, but I cannot." + +There was no outburst of passion from the father; it would have been +wholly out of keeping with his character. Bonbright Foote VI was a +strong man in his way; he possessed force of character--even if that +force were merely a standardized, family-molded force of character. He +recognized a crisis in the affairs of the Foote family which must be +met wisely. He perceived that results could not be obtained through the +violent impact of will; that here was a dangerous condition which must +be cured--but not by seizing it and wrenching it into place... Perhaps +he could make Bonbright obey him, but if matters were as serious as +they seemed, it would be far from wise. The thing must be dealt with +patiently, firmly. Here was only a symptom; the disease went deeper. +For six generations one Bonbright Foote after another had been born +true to tradition's form--the seventh generation had gone askew! It +must be set right, remolded. + +"Let me point out to you," said he, "that you are here only because you +are my son and the descendant of our forefathers. Aside from that you +have no right to consideration or to position. You possess wealth. You +are a personage... Suppose it were necessary to deprive you of these +things. Suppose, as I have the authority to do, I should send you out +of this office to earn your own living. Suppose, in short, I should +find it necessary to do as other fathers have done--to disown you... +What then? What could you do? What would your individuality be +worth?... Think it over, my son. In the meantime we will postpone this +matter until you revise your mood." + +He turned abruptly and went into his own room. He wanted to consider. +He did not know how to conduct himself, nor how to handle this +distressing affair... He fancied he was acting wisely and +diplomatically, but at the same time he carried away with him the +unpleasant consciousness that victory lay for the moment with his son. +Individuality was briefly triumphant. One thing was clear to him--it +should not remain so. The Bonbright Foote tradition should be continued +correctly by his son. This was not so much a determination as a state +of mind. It was a thing of inevitability. + +Bonbright's feeling as his father left him was one of utter +helplessness, of futility. He had received his father's unveiled threat +and later it would have its effect. For the moment it passed without +consideration. First in his mind was the fact that he did not know what +to do--did not even know what he WANTED to do. All he could see was the +groove he was in, the family groove. He did not like it, but he was not +sure he wanted to be out of it. His father had talked of individuality; +Bonbright did not know if he wanted to assert his individuality. He was +at sea. Unrest grappled with him blindly, urging him nowhere, seeming +merely to wrestle with him aimlessly and maliciously... What was it all +about, anyhow? Why was he mixed up in the struggle? Why could not he be +left alone in quiet? If he had owned a definite purpose, a definite +ambition, a describable desire, it would have been different, but he +had none. He was merely bitterly uncomfortable without the slightest +notion what event or course of action could bring him comfort. + +One thought persisted through the chaos of his surging thoughts. He +must call in Ruth Frazer and explain to her that he had not done what +the papers said he did. Somehow he felt he owed her explanation, her of +all the world. + +She entered in response to the button he pushed, but there was not the +broad smile--the grin--he looked up eagerly to see. She was grave, +rather more than grave--she was troubled, so troubled that she did not +raise her eyes to look at him, but took her seat opposite him and laid +her dictation book on the desk. + +"Miss Frazer--" he said, and at his tone she looked at him. He seemed +very young to her, yet older than he had appeared before. Older he was, +with a tired, haggard look left by his sleepless night. She could not +restrain her heart from softening toward him, for he was such a +boy--just a boy. + +"Miss Frazer," he said again, "I want to--talk to you about last +night--about what the papers said." + +If he expected help from her he was disappointed. Her lips set visibly. + +"It was not true--what they said... I sha'n't explain it to anybody +else. What good could it do? But I want you to understand. It seems as +if I HAVE to explain to you.... I can't have you believing--" + +"I didn't read it in the papers," she said. "I heard from an eyewitness. + +"Mr. Dulac," he said. "Yes, he would have seen. Even to him it might +have looked that way--it might. But I didn't--I didn't! You must +believe me. I did not run to the police to have them charge the +strikers again... Why should I?" + +"Why should you?" she repeated, coldly. + +"Let me tell you... I went there--out of curiosity, I guess. This whole +strike came so suddenly. I don't understand why strikes and troubles +like this must be, and I thought I might find out something if I went +and watched... I wasn't taking sides. I don't know who is right and who +is wrong. All I wanted was to learn. One thing... I don't blame the +strikers for throwing bricks. I could have thrown a brick at one of our +guards; a policeman shoved me and I could have thrown a brick at +him.... I suppose, if there are to be strikes and mobs who want to +destroy our property, that we must have guards and police... But they +shouldn't aggravate things. I went around where I could see--and I saw +the police charge. I saw them send their horses smashing into that +crowd--and I saw them draw back, leaving men on the pavement,... There +was one who writhed about and made horrible sounds!... The mob was +against us and the police were for us--but I couldn't stand it. I guess +I lost my head. I hadn't the least intention of doing what I did, or of +doing anything but watch... but I lost my head. I did rush up to the +police, Miss Frazer, and the strikers tried to mob me. I was struck +more than once... It wasn't to tell the police to charge. You must +believe me--you MUST.... I was afraid they WOULD charge again, so I +rushed at them. All I remember distinctly is shouting to them that they +mustn't do it again--mustn't charge into that defenseless mob.... It +was horrible." He paused, and shut his eyes as though to blot out a +picture painted on his mind. Then he spoke more calmly. "The police +didn't understand, either. They thought I belonged to the mob, and they +arrested me.... I slept--I spent the night in a cell in Police +Headquarters." + +Ruth was leaning over the desk toward him, eyes wide, lips parted. +"Is--is that the TRUTH?" she asked; but as she asked she knew it was +so. Then: "I'm sorry--so sorry. You must let me tell Mr. Dulac and he +will tell the men. It would be terrible if they kept on believing what +they believe now. They think you are--" + +"I know," he said, wearily. "It can't be helped. I don't know that it +matters. What they think about me is what--it is thought best for them +to think. I am supposed to be fighting the strike." + +"But aren't you?" + +"I suppose so. It's the job that's been assigned to me--but I'm doing +nothing. I'm of no consequence--just a stuffed figure." + +"You caused the strike." + +"I?" There was genuine surprise in his voice. "How?" + +"With that placard." + +"I suppose so," he said, slowly. "My name WAS signed to it, wasn't +it?... You see I had been indiscreet the night before. I had mingled +with the men and spoken to Mr. Dulac.... I had created a false +impression--which had to be torn up--by the roots." + +"I don't understand, Mr. Foote." + +"No," he said, "of course not.... Why should you? I don't understand +myself. I don't see why I shouldn't talk to Mr. Dulac or the men. I +don't see why I shouldn't try to find out about things. But it wasn't +considered right--was considered very wrong, and I was--disciplined. +Members of my family don't do those things. Mind, I'm not complaining. +I'm not criticizing father, for he may be right. Probably he IS right. +But he didn't understand. I wasn't siding with the men; I was just +trying to find out..." + +"Do you mean," she asked, a bit breathlessly, "that you have done none +of these things of your own will--because you wanted to? I mean the +placard, and bringing in O'Hagan and his strike breakers, and taking +all these ruthless methods to break the strike?... Were you made to +APPEAR as though it was you--when it wasn't?" + +"Don't YOU misunderstand me, Miss Frazer. You're on the other +side--with the men. I'm against them. I'm Bonbright Foote VII." There +was a trace of bitterness in his voice as he said it, and it did not +escape her attention. "I wasn't taking sides.... I wouldn't take sides +now--but apparently I must.... If strikes are necessary then I suppose +fellows in places like mine must fight them.... I don't know. I don't +see any other way.... But it doesn't seem right--that there should be +strikes. There must be a reason for them. Either our side does +something it shouldn't--and provokes them, or your side is unfair and +brings them on.... Or maybe both of us are to blame.... I wanted to +find out." + +"I shall tell Mr. Dulac," she said. "I shall tell him EVERYTHING. The +men mustn't go on hating and despising you. Why, they ought to be sorry +for you!... Why do you endure it? Why don't you walk out of this place +and never enter it again?..." + +"You don't understand," he said, with perplexity." I knew you would +think I am siding with the men." + +"I don't think that--no!... You might come to side with us--because +we're right. But you're not siding with yourself. You're letting +somebody else operate your very soul--and that's a worse sin than +suicide.... You're letting your father and this business, this +Bonbright Foote, Incorporated, wipe you out as if you were a mark on a +slate--and make another mark in your place to suit its own plans. ... +You are being treated abominably." + +"Miss Frazer, I guess neither of us understands this thing. You see +this business, for generations, has had a certain kind of man at the +head of it. Always. It has been a successful business. Maybe when +father, and his father, were young, they had to be disciplined as I am +being. Maybe it is RIGHT--what I have heard called TRAINING." + +"Do you like it?" + +He did not answer at once. "I--it disturbs me. It makes me uneasy. ... +But I can do nothing. They've got me in the groove, and I suppose I'll +move along it." + +"If you would own up to it, you're unhappy. You're being made +miserable.... Why, you're being treated worse than the strikers--and by +your own father!... Everybody has a right to be himself." + +"You say that, but father and the generations of Footes before him say +the exact opposite.... However, I'm not the question. All I wanted to +do was to explain to you about last night. You believe me?" + +"Of course. And I shall tell--" + +He shook his head. "I'd rather you didn't. Indeed, you mustn't. As long +as I am here I must stick by my family. Don't you see? I wanted YOU to +know. My explanation was for you alone." + +Rangar appeared in the door--quietly as it was his wont to move. +"Pardon," he said. "Your father wishes to speak to you, Mr. Foote." + +"One moment, Miss Frazer. I have some letters," Bonbright said, and +stepped into his father's office. + +"Bonbright," said his father, "Rangar has just discovered that your +secretary--this Miss Frazer--lives in the same house with Dulac the +strike leader.... She comes of a family of disturbers herself. Probably +she is very useful to Dulac where she is. Therefore you will dismiss +her at once." + +"But, father--" + +"You will dismiss her at once--personally." + +A second time that day the eyes of father and son locked. + +Bonbright's face was colorless; he felt his lips tremble. + +"At once," said his father, tapping his desk with his finger. + +Bonbright's sensation was akin to that of falling through space--there +seemed nothing to cling to, nothing by which to sustain himself. How +utterly futile he was was borne in upon him! He could not resist. +Protestation would only humiliate him. He turned slowly and walked into +his own room, where he stood erect before his desk. + +"Miss Frazer," he said in a level, timbreless voice, "the labor leader +Dulac lives in your house. You come of a family of labor agitators. +Therefore you are discharged." + +"WHAT?" she exclaimed, the unexpectedness of it upsetting her poise. + +"You are discharged," he repeated; and then, turning his back on her, +he walked to the window, where he stood tense, tortured by humiliation, +gazing down upon a street which he could not see. + +Ruth gathered her book and pencils and stood up. She moved slowly to +the door without speaking, but there she stopped, turned, and looked at +Bonbright. There was neither dismay nor anger in her eyes--only +sympathy. But she did not speak it aloud. "Poor boy!" she whispered to +herself, and stepped out into the corridor. + + + + +CHAPTER IX + + +Ruth Frazer had passed her twentieth birthday, and now, for the first +time, she was asking herself that question which brings tearful +uncertainty, vague fears, disquieting speculations to the great +majority of women--should she give herself, body and soul, into the +hands of a definite man? It was the definiteness, the identification of +the man, that caused all her difficulty. All women expect to be chosen +by, and to choose, some man; but when he arrives in actual flesh and +blood--that is quite another matter. Some, perhaps many, have no +doubts. Love has come to them unmistakably. But not so with most. It is +a thing to be wept over, and prayed over, and considered with many +changes of mind, until final decision is made one way or the other. + +Dulac had been interrupted in what Ruth knew would have been a proposal +of marriage; the scene would be resumed, and when it was what answer +should she give? + +It is no easy task for a girl of twenty to lay her heart under the +microscope and to see if the emotion which agitates it is love, or +admiration, or the excitation of glamour. She has heard of love, has +read of love, has dreamed of love, possibly, but has never experienced +love. How, then, is she to recognize it? With Ruth there had been no +long acquaintanceship with this man who came asking her future of her. +There had been no months or years of service and companionship. +Instead, he had burst on her vision, had dazzled her with his presence +and his mission. Hers was a steady little head, and one capable of +facing the logic of a situation. Was her feeling toward Dulac merely +hero worship? + +The cause he represented was dear to her heart, and he was an eminent +servant in that cause. It thrilled her to know that such a man as he +could want HER for his wife. It quite took her breath away. Present +also was the feeling that if Dulac wanted her, if she could bring +happiness, ease, help to him, it would be her duty to give herself. By +so doing she would contribute her all to the cause.... Behind that +thought were generations of men and women who had sacrificed and +suffered for labor. If her father had given his life, would he not +expect his daughter to give HER life? If she could make Dulac stronger +to carry on his work for social revolution, had she a right to withhold +herself?... + +But, being a girl, with youth singing in her heart, it was impossible +that anything should take precedence of love. That was the great +question. Did she love?... At noon she was sure she did; at one o'clock +she was sure she did not; at two o'clock she was wavering between the +two decisions; at six o'clock she had passed through all these stages +half a dozen times, and was no nearer certainty. + +Being who she was and what she was, her contacts with the world had not +been those of the ordinary girl of her age and her station in life. In +her earlier years she had been accustomed to radical words, radical +thought, radical individuals. The world she was taught to see was not +the world girl children are usually taught to see. And yet she retained +her humor, her brightness of spirit, the joy of life that gave her her +smile.... She had known boys and men. However, none of these had made +marked impression upon her. They had been mere incidents, pleasant, +uninteresting, wearying, amusing. None had thrilled her.... So she had +less experience to call to her aid than the average girl. + +Dulac occupied her mind as no man had ever occupied it before; the +thought of him thrilled her.... He wanted her, this magnetic, +theatrically handsome man wanted her.... + +When we make a choice we do so by a process of comparison. We buy this +house because we like it better than that house; we buy this hat +because we prefer it to that other;... it is so we get our notions of +value, of desirability. It is more than possible that some effort at +comparison is made by a woman in selecting a husband. She compares her +suitor with other men. Her decision may hinge upon the result. ... +Dulac was clearly superior to most of the men Ruth had known.... Then, +unaccountably, she found herself thinking of Bonbright Foote, who had +that morning discharged her from her employment. She found herself +setting young Foote and Dulac side by side and, becoming objectively +conscious of this, she felt herself guilty of some sort of disloyalty. +What right had a man in Foote's position to stand in her thoughts +beside Dulac? He was everything Dulac was not; Dulac was nothing that +Foote was. + +She realized she was getting nowhere, was only confusing herself. +Perhaps, she told herself, when Dulac was present, when he asked her to +be his wife, she would know what to answer. So, resolutely, she put the +matter from her mind. It would not stay out. + +She dreaded meeting Dulac at supper--for the evening meal was supper in +the Frazer cottage--and yet she was burningly curious to meet him, to +be near him, to verify her image of him.... Extra pains with the detail +of her simple toilet held her in her room until her mother called to +know if she were not going to help with the meal. As she went to the +kitchen she heard Dulac moving about in his room. + +When they were seated at the table it was Mrs. Frazer who jerked the +conversation away from casual matters. + +"Ruth was discharged this morning, Mr. Dulac," she said, bitterly, "and +her as good a typewriter and as neat and faithful as any. No fault +found, either, nor could be, not if anybody was looking for it with a +fine-tooth comb. Meanness, that's what I say. Nothing but meanness.... +And us needing that fifteen dollars a week to keep the breath of life +in us." + +"Don't worry about that, mother," Ruth said, quickly. "There are plenty +of places--" + +"Who fired you?" interrupted Dulac, his black eyes glowing angrily. +"That young cub?" + +"Young Mr. Foote," said Ruth. + +"It was because I live here," said Dulac, intensely. "That was why, +wasn't it? That's the way they fight, striking at us through our +womenfolks.... And when we answer with bricks..." + +"I don't think he wanted to do it," Ruth said. "I think he was made to." + +"Nonsense! Too bad the boys didn't get their hands on him last +night--the infernal college-bred whipper-snapper!... Well, don't you +worry about that job. Nor you, either, Mrs. Frazer." + +"Seems like I never did anything but worry; if it wasn't about one +thing it was another, and no peace since I was in the cradle," said +Mrs. Frazer, dolefully. "If it ain't the rent it's strikes and riots +and losin' positions and not knowin' if your husband's comin' home to +sleep in bed, or his name in the paper in the morning and him in jail. +And since he was killed--" + +"Now, mother," said Ruth, "I'll have a job before tomorrow night. We +won't starve or be put out into the street." + +Mrs. Frazer dabbed at her eyes with her apron and signified her firm +belief that capital was banded together for the sole purpose of causing +her mental agony; indeed, that capital had been invented with that end +in view, and if she had her way--which seldom enough, and her never +doing a wrong to a living body--capital should have visited on it +certain plagues and punishments hinted at as adequate, but not named. +Whereupon she got up from the table and went out into the kitchen after +the pie. + +"Mrs. Frazer," said Dulac, when she returned, "I've got to hurry +downtown to headquarters, but I want to have a little talk with Ruth +before I go. Can't the dishes wait?" + +"I did up dishes alone before Ruth was born, and a few thousand times +since. Guess I can get through with it without her help at least once +more." + +Dulac smiled, so that his white, even teeth showed in a foreign sort of +way. In that moment Ruth thought there was something Oriental or Latin +about his appearance--surely something exotic. He had a power of +fascination, and its spell was upon her. + +He stood up and walked to the door of the little parlor, where he stood +waiting. Ruth, not blushing, but pale, afraid, yet eager to hear what +she knew he was going to say, passed him into the room. He closed the +door. + +"You know what I want to say," he began, approaching close to her, but +not touching her. "You know what life will be like with a man whose +work is what mine is.... But I'd try to make up for the hardships and +the worries and the disagreeable things. I'd try, Ruth, and I think I +could do it.... Your heart is with the Cause. I wouldn't marry you if +it wasn't because you couldn't stand the life. But you want to see what +I want to see.... If I'm willing to run the risks and live the life I +have to live because I see how I can help along the work and make the +world a better place for those to live in who need to have it a better +place... if I can do what I do, I've thought you might be willing to +share it all.... You're brave. You come of a blood that has suffered +and been willing to suffer. Your father was a martyr--just as I would +be willing to be a martyr...." + +Somehow the thing did not seem so much like a proposal of marriage as +like a bit of flamboyant oratory. The theatrical air of the man, his +self-consciousness--with the saving leaven of unquestionable +sincerity--made it more an exhortation from the platform. Even in his +intimate moments Dulac did not step out of character.... But this was +not apparent to Ruth. Glamour was upon her, blinding her. The +personality of the man dominated her personality. She saw him as he saw +himself.... And his Cause was her Cause. If he would have suffered +martyrdom for it, so would she. She raised her eyes to his and, looking +into them, saw a soul greater than his soul, loftier than his soul. She +was an apostle, and her heart throbbed with pride and joy that this man +of high, self-sacrificing purpose should desire her.... She was ready +to surrender; her decision was made. Standing under his blazing eyes, +in the circle of his magnetism, she was sure she loved him. + +But the surrender was not to be made then. Her mother rapped on the +door. + +"Young gentleman to see you, Ruth," she called. + +She heard Dulac's teeth click savagely. "Quick," he said. "What is it +to be?" + +The spell was broken, the old uncertainty, the wavering, was present +again. "I--oh, let me think. To-morrow--I'll tell you to-morrow." + +She stepped--it was almost a flight--to the door, and opened it. In the +dining room, hat in hand, stood Bonbright Foote. Dulac saw, too. + +"What does he want here?" he demanded, savagely. + +"I don't know." + +"I'll find out. It's no good to you he intends." + +"Mr. Dulac!" she said, and faced him a moment. He stopped, furious +though he was. She stopped him. She held him.... There was a strength +in her that he had not realized. Her utterance of his name was a +command and a rebuke. + +"I know his kind," Dulac said, sullenly. "Let me throw him out." + +"Please sit down," she said. "I want to bring him in here. I know him +better than you--and I think your side misunderstands him. It may do +some good." + +She stepped into the dining room. "Mr. Foote," she said. + +He was embarrassed, ill at ease. "Miss Frazer," he said, with boyish +hesitation, "you don't want to see me--you have no reason to do +anything but--despise me, I guess. But I had to come. I found your +address and came as quickly as I could." + +"Step in here," she said. Then, "You and Mr. Dulac have met." + +Dulac stood scowling. "Yes," he said, sullenly. Bonbright flushed and +nodded.... Dulac seemed suddenly possessed by a gust of passion. He +strode threateningly to Bonbright, lips snarling, eyes blazing. + +"What do you mean by coming here? What do you want?" he demanded, +hoarsely. "You come here with your hands red with blood. Two men are +dead.... Four others smashed under the hoofs of your police!... You're +trying to starve into submission thousands of men. You're striking at +them through their wives and babies.... What do you care for them or +their suffering? You and your father are piling up millions--and every +penny a loaf stolen from the table of a workingman!... There'll be +starving out there soon.... Babies will be dying for want of food--and +you'll have killed them.... You and your kind are bloodsuckers, +parasites!... and you're a sneaking, spying hound.... Every man that +dies, every baby that starves, every ounce of woman's suffering and +misery that this strike causes are on your head.... You forced the +strike, backed up by the millions of the automobile crowd, so you could +crush and smash your men so they wouldn't dare to mutter or complain. +You did it deliberately--you prowling, pampered puppy...." Dulac was +working himself into blind rage. + +Bonbright looked at the man with something of amazement, but with +nothing of fear. He was not afraid. He did not give back a step, but, +as he stood there, white to the lips, his eyes steadily on Dulac's +eyes, he seemed older, weary. He seemed to have been stripped of youth +and of the lightheartedness and buoyancy of youth. He was thinking, +wondering. Why should this man hate him? Why should others hate him? +Why should the class he belonged to be hated with this blighting +virulence by the class they employed?... + +He did not speak nor try to stem Dulac's invective. He was not angered +by it, nor was he hurt by it.... He waited for it to subside, and with +a certain dignity that sat well on his young shoulders. Generations of +ancestors trained in the restraints were with him this night, and stood +him in good stead. + +Ruth stood by, the situation snatched beyond her control. She was +terrified, yet even in her terror she could not avoid a sort of +subconscious comparison of the men. + +"Mr. Dulac!... Please!... Please!..." she said, tearfully. + +"I'm going to tell this--this murderer what he is. and then I'm going +to throw him out," Dulac raged. + +"Mr. Foote came to see ME," Ruth said, with awakened spirit. "He is in +my house.... You have no right to act so. You have no right to talk +so.... You sha'n't go on." + +Dulac turned on her. "What is this cub to you? What do you care?... +Were you expecting him?" + +"She wasn't expecting me," said Bonbright, breaking silence for the +first time. "I came because she didn't get a square deal.... I had to +come." + +"What do you want with her?... You've kicked her out of your +office--now leave her alone.... There's just one thing men of your +class want of girls of her class...." + +At first Bonbright did not comprehend Dulac's meaning; then his face +reddened; even his ears were enveloped in a surge of color. "Dulac," he +said, evenly, "I came to say something to Miss Frazer. When I have done +I'm going to thrash you for that." + +Ruth seized Dulac's arm. "Go away," she cried. "You have no right. ... +If you ever want an answer--to that question--you'll go NOW... If this +goes on--if you don't go and leave Mr. Foote alone, I'll never see you +again.... I'll never speak to you again.... I mean it!" + +Dulac, looking down into her face, saw that she did mean it. He shot +one venomous glance at Bonbright, snatched his hat from the table, and +rushed from the room. + +Presently Ruth spoke. + +"I'm so sorry," she said. + +Bonbright smiled. "It was too bad.... He believes what he says about +me...." + +"Yes, he believes it, and thousands of other men believe it.... They +hate you." + +"Because I have lots of money and they have little. Because I own a +factory and they work in it.... There must be a great deal to it +besides that.... But that isn't what I came to say. I--it was about +discharging you." + +"Yes," she said. "I knew it wasn't you.... Your father made you." + +He flushed. "You see... I'm not a real person. I'm just something with +push buttons. When somebody wants a thing done he pushes one, and I do +it.... I didn't want you to go. I--Well, things aren't exactly joyous +for me in the plant. I don't fit--and I'm being made to fit." His voice +took on a tinge of bitterness. "I've got to be something that the label +'Bonbright Foote VII' will fit.... It was on account of that smile of +yours that I made them give you to me for my secretary. The first time +I saw you you smiled--and it was mighty cheering. It sort of lightened +things up--so I got you to do my work--because I thought likely you +would smile sometimes...." + +Her eyes were downcast to hide the moisture that was in them. + +"Father made me discharge you.... I couldn't help it--and you don't +know how ashamed it made me.... To know I was so helpless. That's what +I came to say. I wanted you to know--on account of your smile. I didn't +want you to think--I did it willingly.... And--sometimes it isn't easy +to get another position--so--so I went to see a man, Malcolm Lightener, +and told him about you. He manufactures automobiles--and he's--he's a +better kind of man to work for than--we were. If you are willing you +can--go there in the morning." + +She showed him her smile now--but it was not the broad, beaming grin; +it was a dewy, tremulous smile. + +"That was good of you," she said, softly. + +"I was just trying to be square," he said. "Will you take the place? I +should like to know. I should like to know I'd helped to make things +right." + +"Of course I shall take it," she said. + +"Thank you.... I--shall miss you. Really.... Good night, Miss +Frazer--and thank you." + +She pitied him from her heart. His position was not a joyful one.... +And, as people sometimes do, she spoke on impulse, not calculating +possible complications. + +"If--you may come to see me again if you want to." + +He took her extended hand. "I may?" he said, almost incredulously. "And +will you smile for me?" + +"Once, each time you come," she said. + + + + +CHAPTER X + + +Day after day and week after week the strike dragged on. Daily strength +departed from it and entered into Bonbright Foote, Incorporated. The +men had embarked upon it with enthusiasm, many of them with fanatic +determination; but with the advent in their home of privation, of +hunger, their zeal was transmuted into heavy determination, lifeless +stubbornness. Idleness hung heavily on their hands, and small coins +that should have passed over the baker's counter clinked upon mahogany +bars. + +Dulac labored, exhorted, prayed with them. It was his personality, his +individual powers over the minds and hearts of men, that kept the +strike alive. The weight rested upon his shoulders alone, but he did +not bend under it. He would not admit the hopelessness of the +contest--and he fought on. At the end of a month he was still able to +fire his audiences with sincere, if theatrical, oratory; he could still +play upon them and be certain of a response. At the end of two months +he--even he--was forced to admit that they listened with stolidness, +with apathy. They were falling away from him; but he fought on. He +would not admit defeat, would not, even in his most secret thoughts, +look forward to inevitable failure. + +Every man that deserted was an added atom of strength to Bonbright +Foote, Incorporated. Every hungry baby, every ailing wife, every empty +dinner table fought for the company and against Dulac. Rioting ended. +It requires more than hopeless apathy to create a riot; there must be +fervor, determination, enthusiasm. Daily Dulac's ranks were thinned by +men who slunk to the company's employment office and begged to be +reinstated.... The back of the strike was broken. + +Bonbright Foote saw how his company crushed the strike; how, +ruthlessly, with machinelike certainty and lack of heart, it went ahead +undeviatingly, careless of obstructions, indifferent to human beings in +its path. There was something Prussian about it; something that +recalled to him Bismarck and Moltke and 1870 with the exact, soulless +mechanical perfection of the systematic trampling of the France of +Napoleon III.... And, just as the Bonbright Foote tradition crunched +the strike to pieces so it was crunching and macerating his own +individuality until it would be a formless mass ready for the mold. + +The will should be a straight steel rod urged in one undeviating +direction by heart and mind. No day passed upon which the rod of +Bonbright's will was not bent, was not twisted to make it follow the +direction of some other will stronger than his--the direction of the +accumulated wills of all the Bonbright Footes who had built up the +family tradition. + +No initiative was allowed him; he was not permitted to interest himself +in the business in his own youthful, healthy way; but he must see it +through dead eyes, he must initiate nothing, criticize nothing, suggest +nothing. He must follow rule. + +His father was not satisfied with him, that he realized--and that he +was under constant suspicion. He was unsatisfactory. His present mental +form was not acceptable and must undergo painful processes of +alteration. His parents would have taken him back, as a bad bargain, +and exchanged him for something else if they could, but being unable, +they must make him into something else. + +Humiliation lay heavy on him. Every man in the employ of Bonbright +Foote, Incorporated, must realize the shamefulness of his position, +that he was a fiction, a sham held up by his father's hands. Orders +issued from his lips to unsmiling subordinates, who knew well they were +not his orders, but words placed in his mouth to recite parrot-like. +Letters went out under his signature, dictated by him--according to the +dictation of his father. He was a rubber stamp, a mechanical means of +communication.... He was not a man, an individual--he was a marionette +dancing to ill-concealed strings. + +The thing he realized with abhorrence was that when he was remade, when +he became the thing the artisans worked upon him to create--when at +last his father passed from view and he remained master of Bonbright +Foote, Incorporated, it would not be Bonbright Foote VII who was +master. It would be an automaton, a continuation of other +automatons.... It is said the Dalai Lama is perpetual, always the same, +never changing from age to age. A fiction maintained by a mystic +priesthood supplying themselves secretly with fresh Dalai Lama material +as needful--with a symbol to hold in awe the ignorance of their +religionists.... Bonbright saw that he was expected to be a symbol.... + +He approached his desk in the morning with loathing, and left it at +night without relief. Hopelessness was upon him and he could not flee +from it; it was inescapable. + +True, he sought relief. Malcolm Lightener had become his fast friend--a +sort of life preserver for his soul. In spite of his youth and +Lightener's maturity there was real companionship between them.... +Lightener knew what was going on, and in his granite way he tried to +help the boy. Bonbright was not interested in his own business, so +Lightener awakened in him an interest in Lightener's business. He +discussed his affairs with the boy. He talked of systems, of +efficiency, of business methods. He taught Bonbright as he would have +taught his own son, half realizing the futility of his teaching. Nor +had he question as to the righteousness of his proceeding. Because a +boy's father follows an evil course the parenthood does not hallow that +course.... So Bonbright learned, not knowing that he learned, and in +his own office he made comparisons. The methods of Bonbright Foote, +Incorporated, he compared with the methods of Malcolm Lightener. He saw +where modern business would make changes and improvements--but after +the first few trampled-on suggestions he remained silent and grew +indifferent. + +Once he suggested the purchase of dictating machines. + +"Fol-de-rol," said his father, brusquely--and the matter ended. + +In Lightener's plant he saw lathes which roughed and finished in one +process and one handling. In his own plant castings must pass from one +machine to another, and through the hands of extra and unnecessary +employees. It was economic waste. But he offered no suggestion. He saw +time lost here, labor lavished there, but he was indifferent. He knew +better. He knew how it should be done--but he did not care.... The +methods of Bonbright Foote I not only suited his father, but were the +laws of his father's life. + +Not only had Bonbright established sympathetic relations with Malcolm +Lightener, but with Lightener's family. In Mrs. Lightener he found a +woman whose wealth had compelled the so-called social leaders of the +city to accept her, but whose personality, once she was accepted, had +won her a firm, enduring position. He found her a woman whose sudden, +almost magical, change from obscurity and the lower fringe of +salary-drawers to a wealth that made even America gasp, had not made +her dizzy. Indeed, it seemed not to have affected her character at all. +Her dominant note was motherliness. She was still the housewife. She +continued to look after her husband and daughter just as she had looked +after them in the days when she had lived in a tiny frame house and had +cooked the meals and made the beds.... She represented womanhood of a +sort Bonbright had never been on terms of intimate friendship with.... +There was much about her which gave him food for reflection. + +And Hilda.... Since their first meeting there had been no reference to +the desire of their mothers for their marriage. For a while the +knowledge of this had made it difficult for Bonbright to offer her his +friendship and companionship. But when he saw, as the weeks went by, +how she was willing to accept him unaffectedly as a friend, a comrade, +a chum, how the maternal ambition to unite the families seemed to be +wholly absent from her thoughts, they got on delightfully. + +Bonbright played with her. Somehow she came to represent recreation in +his life. She was jolly, a splendid sportswoman, who could hold her own +with him at golf or tennis, and who drove an automobile as he would +never have dared to drive. + +She was not beautiful, but she was attractive, and the center of her +attractiveness was her wholesomeness, her frankness, her simplicity. +... He could talk to her as he could not talk even to her father, yet +he could not open his heart fully even to her. He could not show her +the soul tissues that throbbed and ached. + +He was lonely. A lonely boy thrown with an attractive girl is a fertile +field for the sowing of love. But Bonbright was not in love with +Hilda.... The idea did not occur to him. There was excellent +reason--though he had not arrived at a realization of it, and this +excellent reason was Ruth Frazer. + +He had ventured to accept Ruth's impulsive invitation to come to see +her. Not frequently, not so frequently as his inclinations urged, but +more frequently than was, perhaps, wise in his position.... She +represented a new experience. She was utterly outside his world, and so +wholly different from the girls of his world. It was an attractive +difference.... And her grin! When it glowed for him he felt for the +moment as if the world were really a pleasant place to spend one's life. + +He learned from her. New ideas and comprehensions came to him as a +result of her conversations with him. Through her eyes he was seeing +the other side. Not all her theories, not even all her facts, could he +accept, but no matter how radical, no matter how incendiary her words, +he delighted to hear her voice uttering them. In short, Bonbright Foote +VII, prince of the Foote Dynasty, was in danger of falling in love with +the beggar maid. + +So, many diverse forces and individualities were at work upon the +molding of Bonbright Foote. One, and one only, he recognized, and that +was the stern, ever-apparent, iron-handed wrenching of his father. +There were times, which grew more and more frequent, when he fancied he +had surrendered utterly to it and had handed over his soul to Bonbright +Foote, Incorporated. He fancied he was sitting by apathetically +watching the family tradition squeeze it into the desired form.... + +After a wretched day he had called on Ruth. The next morning +soft-footed Rangar had moved shadowlike into his father's office, and +presently his father summoned him to come in. + +"I am informed," said the gentleman who was devoting his literary +talents to a philosophical biography of the Marquis Lafayette, Hero of +Two Worlds, friend of Liberty and Equality, "that you have been going +repeatedly to the house of that girl who formerly was your +secretary--whose mother runs a boarding house for anarchists." + +The suddenness, the unexpectedness of attack upon this angle, +nonplussed Bonbright. He could only stand silent, stamped with the +guilty look of youth. + +"Is it true?" snapped his father. + +"I have called on Miss Frazer," Bonbright said, unsteadily. + +Mr. Foote stood up. It was his habit to stand up in all crises, big or +little. + +"Have you no respect for your family name?... If you must have things +like this in your life, for God's sake keep them covered up. Don't be +infernally blatant about them. Do you want the whole city whispering +like ghouls over the liaison of my son with--with a female anarchist +who is--the daughter of a boarding-house keeper?" + +Liaison!... Liaison!... The foreign term beat again and again against +Bonbright's consciousness before it gained admission. Used in +connection with Ruth Frazer, with his relations with Ruth Frazer, it +was dead, devoid of meaning, conveyed no meaning to his brain. + +"Liaison, sir!... Liaison?" he said, fumblingly. + +"I can find a plainer term if you insist." + +For a moment Bonbright felt curiously calm, curiously cold, curiously +detached from the scene. He regarded the other man.... This man was his +father. His FATHER! The laws of life and of humanity demanded that he +regard this man with veneration. Yet, offhand, without investigation, +this man could jump to a vile conclusion regarding him. Not only that, +but could accuse him, not of guilt, but of failing to conceal guilt!... +Respectability! He knew he was watching a manifestation of the family +tradition. It was wrong to commit an unworthy act, but it was a sin +unspeakable to be caught by the public in the commission. + +His mind worked slowly. It was a full half minute before the thought +bored through to him that HE was not the sole nor the greatest sufferer +by this accusation. It was not HE who was insulted. It was not HE who +was outraged.... It was HER! + +His father could think that of her--casually. The mere fact that she +was poor, not of his station, a wage-earner, made it plain to the +senior Foote that Ruth Frazer would welcome a squalid affair with his +son.... The Sultan throwing his handkerchief. + +Bonbright's calm gave place to turmoil, his chill to heat. + +"It's not true," he said, haltingly, using feeble words because +stronger had not yet had time to surge up to the surface. + +"Bosh!" said the father. + +Then Bonbright blazed. Restraints crumbled. The Harvard manner peeled +off and lay quivering with horror at his feet. He stepped a pace closer +to his father, so that his face was close to his father's face, and his +smoldering eyes were within inches of his father's scornful ones. + +"It's a lie," he said, huskily, "a damned, abominable, insulting lie." + +"Young man," his father shipped back, "be careful...." + +"Careful!... I don't know who carried this thing to you, but whoever +did was a miserable, sneaking mucker. He lied and he knew he lied. ... +And you, sir, you were willing to believe. Probably you were eager to +believe.... I sha'n't defend Miss Frazer. Only a fool or a mucker could +believe such a thing of her.... Yes, I have been to see her, and I'll +tell you why.... I'll tell you why, good and plenty! ... My first day +in this place she was the only human, pleasant thing I met. Her smile +was the only life or brightness in the place.... Everything else was +dead men's bones. The place is a tomb and it stinks of graveclothes. +Our whole family stinks of graveclothes. Family tradition!... Men dead +and rotten and eaten by worms--they run this place, and you want me to +let them run me.... Every move you make you consult a skeleton.... And +you want to smash and crush and strangle me so that I'll be willing to +walk with a weight of dead bones.... I've tried. You are my father, and +I thought maybe you knew best.... I've submitted. I've submitted to +your humiliations, to having everything that's ME--that is individual +in me--stamped out, and stuff molded to the family pattern rammed back +in its place. ... She was the only bright spot in the whole outfit--and +you kicked her out.... And I've been going to see her--just to see her +smile and to get courage from it to start another day with you.... +That's what my life has been here, and you made it so, and you will +keep on making it so.... Probably you'll grind me into the family +groove. Maybe I'm ground already, but that doesn't excuse what you've +just said, and it doesn't make it any less an abominable lie, nor the +man who reported it to you any less a muck-hearted sewer..." + +He stopped, pale, panting, quivering. + +"How dare you!... How dare--" + +"Dare!"... Bonbright glared at his father; then he felt a great, +quivering emotion welling up within him, a something he was ashamed to +have the eye of man look upon. His lips began to tremble. He swung on +his heel and ran staggeringly toward his door, but there he stopped, +clutched the door frame, and cried, chokingly, "It's a lie. ... A +lie.... A slimy lie!" + + + + +CHAPTER XI + + +Mr. Foote stood motionless, staring after his son as he might have +stared at some phenomenon which violated a law of nature; for instance, +as he might have stared at the sun rising in the west, at a stream +flowing uphill, at Newton's apple remaining suspended in air instead of +falling properly to the ground. He was not angry--yet. That personal +and individual emotion would come later; what he experienced now was a +FAMILY emotion, a staggering astonishment participated in by five +generations of departed Bonbright Footes. + +He was nonplussed. Here had happened a thing which could not happen. In +the whole history of the Foote family there had never been recorded an +instance of a son uttering such words to his father or of his family. +There was no instance of an outburst even remotely resembling this one. +It simply could not be.... And yet it was. He had witnessed it, +listened to it, had been the target at which his son's hot words had +been hurled. + +For most occurrences in his life Mr. Foote could find a family +precedent. This matter had been handled thus, and that other matter had +been handled so. But this thin--it had never been handled because it +had never happened. He was left standing squarely on his own feet, +without aid or support. + +Mortification mingled with his astonishment. It had remained for +him--who had thought to add to the family laurels the literary +achievement of portraying philosophically the life of the Marquis +Lafayette--to father a son who could be guilty of thinking such +thoughts and uttering such words. He looked about the room +apprehensively, as if he feared to find assembled there the shades of +departed Bonbrights who had been eavesdropping, as the departed are +said to do by certain psychic persons.... He hoped they had not been +listening at his keyhole, for this was a squalid happening that he must +smother, cover up, hide forever from their knowledge. + +These sensations were succeeded by plain, ordinary, common, uncultured, +ancestorless anger. Bonbright Foote VI retained enough personality, +enough of his human self, to be able to become angry. True, he did not +do it as one of his molders would have done; he was still a Foote, even +in passion. It was a dignified, a cultured, a repressed passion... but +deep-seated and seething for an outlet, just the same. What he felt +might be compared distantly to what other men feel when they seize upon +the paternal razor strop and apply it wholesomely to that portion of +their son's anatomy which tradition says is most likely to turn boys to +virtue.... He wanted to compel Bonbright to make painful reparation to +his ancestors. He wanted to inflict punishment of some striking, +uncommon, distressing sort.... + +His anger increased, and he became even more human. With a trifle more +haste than was usual, with the studied, cultured set of his lips less +studied and cultured than ever they had been before, he strode to his +son's door. Something was going to happen. He was restraining himself, +but something would happen now. He felt it and feared it. ... His rage +must have an outlet. Vaguely he felt that fire must be fought with +fire--and he all unaccustomed to handling that element. But he would +rise to the necessities.... + +He stepped into Bonbright's room, keyed up to eruption, but he did not +erupt. Nobody was there to erupt AT. Bonbright was gone.... + +Mr. Foote went back to his desk and sat there nervously drumming on its +top with his fingers. He was not himself. He had never been so +disturbed before and did not know it was possible for him to be upset +in this manner. There had been other crises, other disagreeable +happenings in his life, but he had met them calmly, dispassionately, +with what he was pleased to call philosophy. He had liked to fancy +himself as ruled wholly by intellect and not at all by emotion. And now +emotion had caught him up as a tidal wave might catch up a strong +swimmer, and tossed him hither and thither, blinded by its spray and +helpless. + +His one coherent thought was that something must be done about it. At +such a moment some fathers would have considered the advisability of +casting their sons loose to shift for themselves as a punishment for +too much independence and for outraging the laws requiring +unquestioning respect for father from son. This course did not even +occur to Mr. Foote. It was in the nature of things that it should not, +for in his mind his son was a permanent structure, a sort of extension +on the family house. He was THERE. Without him the family ended, the +family business passed into the hands of strangers. There would be no +Bonbright Foote VIII who, in his turn, should become the father of +Bonbright Foote IX, and so following. No, he did not hold even +tentatively the idea of disinheritance. + +Something, however, must be done, and the something must result in his +son's becoming what he wanted his son to become. Bonbright must be +grasped and shoved into the family groove and made to travel and +function there. There could be no surrender, no wavering, no concession +made by the family.... The boy must be made into what he ought to +be--but how? And he must have his lesson for this day's scene. He must +be shown that he could not, with impunity, outrage the Family Tradition +and flout the Family Ghosts.... Again--how? + +What Bonbright intended in his present state of boyish rage and revolt, +his father did not consider. It was characteristic of him that he +failed to think of that. All his considerations were of what he and the +Family should do to Bonbright.... A general would doubtless have called +this defective strategy. To win battles one must have some notion of +the enemy's intentions--and of his potentialities.... His +determination--set and stiff as cold metal--was that something +unpleasant should happen to the boy and that the boy should be brought +to his senses.... If anyone had hinted to him that the boy was just +coming to his senses he would have listened as one listens to a patent +absurdity. + +He pressed the buzzer which summoned Rangar, and presently that +soft-footed individual appeared silently in the door--looking as Mr. +Foote had never seen him look before. Rangar was breathing hard, he was +flustered, his necktie was awry, and his face was ivory white. Also, +though Mr. Foote did not take in this detail, his eyes smoldered with +restrained malignancy. + +"Why, Rangar," said Mr. Foote, "what's wrong?" + +"Wrong, Mr. Foote!... I--It was Mr. Bonbright." + +"What about Mr. Bonbright?" + +"A moment ago he came rushing out of his office--I use the word rushing +advisedly.... He was in a rage, sir. He was, you could see it plain. +I--I was in his way, sir, and I stepped aside. But he wouldn't have it. +No, sir, he wouldn't.... He reached out, Mr. Foote, and grabbed me; +yes, sir, grabbed me right before the whole office. It was by the front +of the shirt and the necktie, and he shook me.... He's a strong young +man.... And he said, 'You're the sneak that's been running to father +with lies,' and then he shook me again. 'I suppose,' he says in a +second, 'that I've got to expect to be spied on.... Go ahead, it's a +job that fits you.' Yes, sir, that's exactly what he said in his own +words. 'Fits me,' says he. And then he shook me again and threw me +across the alleyway so that I fell over on a desk. 'Spy ahead,' he +says, so that everybody in the office heard him and was snickering at +me, 'but report what you see after this--and see to it it's the +truth.... One more lie like this one,' he says, and then stopped and +rushed on out of the office. It was a threat, Mr. Foote, and he meant +it. He means me harm." + +"Nonsense!" said Mr. Foote, holding himself resolutely in the character +he had built for himself. "A fit of boyish temper." + +Rangar's eyes glinted, but he made no rejoinder. + +"He rather lost his temper with ME," said Mr. Foote, "when I accused +him of a liaison with that girl.... He denied it, Rangar, or so I +understood. He was very young and--tempestuous about it. Are you sure +you were right?" + +"What else would he be going there for, Mr. Foote?" + +"My idea exactly." + +"Unless, sir, he fancies he's in love with the girl.... I once knew a +young man in a position similar to Mr. Bonbright's who fell in love +with a girl who sold cigars in a hotel.... He fairly DOGGED her, sir. +Wanted to marry her. You wouldn't believe it, but that's what he did, +and his family had to buy her off and send her away or he'd have done +it, too.... It might happen to any young man, Mr. Foote." + +"Not to a member of my family, Rangar." + +"I can't agree with you, sir.... Nobody's immune to it. You can't deny +that Mr. Bonbright has been going to see her regularly. Five or six +times he's been there, and stayed a long time every visit.... It was +one thing or the other he went for, and you can't deny that. If he says +it wasn't what you accused him of, then it was the other." + +"You mean that my son--a Foote--could fall in love, as you call it, +with the daughter of a boarding house and a companion of anarchists?" + +"I hate to say it to you, sir, but there isn't anything else to +believe.... He's young, Mr. Foote, and fiery. She isn't bad looking, +either, and she's clever. A clever girl can do a lot with a boy, no +matter who he is, if she sets her heart on him. It wouldn't be a bad +match for a girl like her if she was to entice Mr. Bonbright into a +marriage." + +"Impossible, Rangar.... However, you have an eye kept on him. I want to +be told every move he makes, where he goes, who he sees. I want to know +everything about him, Rangar. Will you see to it?" + +"Yes, sir," said Rangar, a gleam of malice again visible in his eyes. + +"What do you know about this girl? Have you had her looked up?" + +"Not fully, sir. But I've heard she was heart and soul with what these +anarchists believe. Her father was one of them. Killed by the police or +soldiers or somebody.... The unions educated her. That's why Dulac went +to live there--to help them out.... And it's been reported to me, Mr. +Foote, that Dulac was sweet on her himself. That came from a reliable +source." + +"My son a rival of an anarchist for the favor of the daughter of a +cheap boarding house!" exclaimed Mr. Foote. + +"This Dulac was seen, Mr. Foote, with reference to the strike. He's a +fanatic. Nothing could be done with him. He actually offered violence +to our agent who attempted to show him how it would be to his benefit +to--to be less energetic. We offered him--" + +"I don't care to hear what we offered him. Such details are +distasteful, Rangar. That's what I hire you for, isn't it?" + +"Yes, sir.... Anyhow, Mr. Foote, he couldn't be bought." + +"Yes.... Yes. Well, we'll have to continue along the lines we've been +following. They have been not unsuccessful." + +"True enough. It's just a question of time now. It might do some good, +Mr. Foote, to have the rumor get about that we wouldn't take back any +men who did not apply for reinstatement before the end of next week.... +There's considerable discontent, due largely to insufficient +nourishment. Yes, we can lay it to that, I imagine. It's this man Dulac +that holds the strike together. If only every laboring man had a dozen +babies there'd be less strikes," Rangar finished, not exactly +callously, but in a matter-of-fact way. If he had thought of it he +might have added, "and a sick wife." Rangar would not have hesitated to +provide each striker with the babies and the wife, purely as a +strike-breaking measure, if he could have managed the matter. + +"They're improvident," said Mr. Foote, sagaciously. "If they must +strike and cut off their earnings every so often, why don't they lay up +savings to carry them through?" + +"They seem to have the notion, sir, that they don't earn enough to +save. That, while it isn't their main grievance, is an important one. +But the idiots put nonsensical, immaterial grievances ahead of money +matters mostly.... Rights! Rights to do this or not to do that--to +organize or to sit at board meetings. They're not practical, Mr. Foote. +If it was just money they wanted we might get on with them. It's men +like this Dulac putting notions into their heads that they haven't +brains enough to think of themselves. Social revolution, you know--that +sort of thing." + +"Do what you like about it. You might have notices tacked up outside +the gates stating that we wouldn't take back men who weren't back by +the date you named. And, Rangar, be sure Mr. Bonbright's name is signed +to it. I want to rid the men thoroughly of any absurd ideas about him." + +"You have, sir. If Dulac is a fair sample, you have. Why, he seems +regularly to HATE Mr. Bonbright. Called him names, and that sort of +thing.... Maybe, though, there's something personal mixed up in it." + +"That girl?..." + +"Very likely, sir." + +"You know her, Rangar. She worked under you. What sort of girl is +she?... I mean would you consider it wise to approach her with a +proposition--delicately put, of course--to--say--move to another city, +or something of the sort?" + +"My observation of her--while not close--(you understand I have little +opportunity for close observations of unimportant subordinates)--was +that it would be unwise and--er--futile. She seemed to have quite a +will. Indeed, I may say she seemed stubborn ... and no fool. If she's +got a chance at Mr. Bonbright she wouldn't give it up for a few +dollars. Not her, sir." + +"I don't recall her especially. Small--was she not? Not +the--ah--ripe--rounded type to attract a boy? Eh?" + +"Curves and color don't always do it, Mr. Foote, I've observed. I've +known scrawny ones, without a thing to stir up the imagination, that +had ten boys running after them to one running after the kind they have +pictures of on calendars.... I don't know if it's brains, or what, but +they've got something that attracts." + +"Hum!... Can't say I've had much experience. Probably you're right. +Anyhow, we're faced by something definite in the way of a condition. +... If the thing is merely a liaison--we can break it up, I imagine, +without difficulty. If my son is so blind to right and wrong, and to +his position, as to want to MARRY the girl, we'll have to resort +promptly to effective measures." + +"Promptly," said Rangar. "And quietly, Mr. Foote. If she got an idea +there was trouble brewing, she might off with him and get married +before we could wink." + +"Heavens!... An anarchistic boarding-house girl for a daughter-in-law! +We'd be a proud family, Rangar." + +"Yes, sir. I understand you leave it with me?" + +"I leave it with you to keep an eye on Bonbright. Consult with me +before acting. My son is in a strange humor. He'll take some handling, +I'm afraid, before we bring him to see things as my son ought to see +them. But I'll bring him there, Rangar. I should be doing my duty very +indifferently, indeed, if I did not. He's resentful. He wants to +display a thing he calls his individuality--as if our family had use +for such things. We're Footes, and I rather fancy the world knows what +that means.... My son shall be a Foote, Rangar. That's all.... Stay a +moment, though. Hereafter bear in mind I do not care to be troubled +with squalid details. If things have to be done, do them.... If babies +must be hungry--why, I suppose it is a condition that must exist from +time to time. The fault of their fathers.... However, I do not care to +hear about them. I am engaged on an important literary work, as you +know, and such things tend to distract me." + +"Naturally, sir," said Rangar. + +"But you will on no account relax your firmness with these strikers. +They must be shown." + +"They're being shown," said Rangar, grimly, and walked out of the +office. In the corridor his face, which had been expressionless or +obsequious when he saw the need, changed swiftly. His look was that of +a man thinking of an enemy. There was malice, vindictiveness, hatred in +that look, and it expressed with exactness his sentiments toward young +Bonbright Foote.... It did not express all of them, for, lurking in the +background, unseen, was a deep contempt. Rangar despised Bonbright as a +nincompoop, as he expressed it privately. + +"If I didn't think," he said, "I'd get all the satisfaction I need by +leaving him to his father, I'd take a hand myself. But the Foote spooks +will give it to him better than I could.... I can't wish him any worse +luck than to be left to THEM." He chuckled and felt of his disarranged +tie. + +As for Bonbright Foote VI, he was frightened. No other word can +describe his sensations. The idea that his son might marry--actually +MARRY--this girl, was appalling. If the boy should actually take such +an unthinkable step before he could be prevented, what a situation +would arise! + +"Of course it wouldn't last," he said to himself. "Such marriages never +do.... But while it did last--And there might be a child--a SON!" A +Bonbright Foote VIII come of such a mother, with base blood in his +veins! He drew his aristocratic shoulders together as though he felt a +chill. + +"When he comes back," Mr. Foote said, "we'll have this thing out." + +But Bonbright did not come back that day, nor was he visible at home +that night.... The next day dragged by and still he did not appear. ... + + + + +CHAPTER XII + + +Ruth Frazer had been working nearly two months for Malcolm Lightener, +and she liked the place. It had been a revelation to her following her +experience with Bonbright Foote, Incorporated. It INTERESTED her, +fascinated her. There was an atmosphere in the tremendous offices--a +tension, a SNAPPINESS, an alertness, an efficiency that made Bonbright +Foote, Incorporated, seem an anachronism; as belonging in an earlier, +more leisurely, less capable century. There was a spirit among the +workers totally lacking in her former place of employment; there was an +attitude in superiors, and most notable in Malcolm Lightener himself, +which was so different from that of Mr. Foote that it seemed +impossible. Foote held himself aloof from contacts with his help and +his business. Malcolm Lightener was everywhere, interested in +everything, mixing into everything. And though she perceived his +granite qualities, experienced his brusqueness, his gruffness, she, in +common with the office, felt for him something that was akin to +affection. He was the sort to draw forth loyalty. + +Her first encounter with him occurred a couple of days after her +arrival in the office. She was interrupted in the transcription of a +letter by a stern voice behind her, saying: + +"You're young Foote's anarchist, aren't you?" + +She looked up frightened into the unsmiling eyes of Malcolm Lightener. + +"Mr. Foote--got me my place here," she said, hesitatingly. + +"Here--take this letter." And almost before she could snatch book and +pencil he was dictating, rapidly, dynamically. When Malcolm Lightener +dictated a letter he did it as though he were making a public speech, +with emphasis and gesture. "There," he said, "read it back to me." + +She did, her voice unsteady. + +"Spell isosceles," he demanded. + +She managed the feat accurately. + +"Uh!... That usually gets 'em.... Needn't transcribe that letter. Like +it here?" + +"Yes, sir." + +"Why?" + +She looked up at him, considering the matter. Why did she like it +there? "Because," she said, slowly, "it doesn't seem like just +a--a--big, grinding machine, and the people working here like wheels +and pulleys and little machines. It all feels ALIVE, and--and--we feel +like human beings." + +"Huh!..." he grunted, and frowned down at her. "Brains," he said. +"Mighty good thing to have. Took brains to be able to think that--and +say it." He turned away, then said, suddenly, over his shoulder, "Got +any bombs in your desk?" + +"Bombs!..." + +"Because," he said, with no trace of a smile, "we don't allow little +girls to bring bombs in here.... If you see anything around that you +think needs an infernal machine set off under it, why, you come and +tell me. See?... Tell me before you explode anything--not after. You +anarchists are apt to get the cart before the horse." + +"I'm not an anarchist, Mr. Lightener." + +"Huh!... What are you, then?" + +"I think--I'm sure I'm a Socialist." + +"All of the same piece of cloth.... Mind, if you feel a bomb coming +on--see me about it." He walked away to stop by the desk of a mailing +clerk and enter into some kind of conversation with the boy. + +Ruth looked after him in a sort of daze. Then she heard the girls about +her laughing. + +"You've passed your examination, Miss Frazer," said the girl at the +next desk. "Everybody has to.... You never can tell what he's going to +do, but he's a dear. Don't let him scare you. If he thought he had he'd +be tickled to death--and then he'd find some way to show you you +needn't be at all." + +"Oh!" said Ruth. + +More than once she saw laboring men, machinists, men in greasy +overalls, with grimy hands and smeared faces, pass into Malcolm +Lightener's office, and come out with the Big Boss walking beside them, +talking in a familiar, gruff, interested way. She was startled +sometimes to hear such men address him by his first name--and to see no +lightning from heaven flash blastingly. She was positively startled +once when a machinist flatly contradicted Lightener in her hearing on +some matter pertaining to his work. + +"That hain't the way at all," the man said, flatly. Ruth waited for the +explosion. + +"Landers planned it that way." Landers was chief engineer in the plant, +drawing a princely salary. + +"Landers is off his nut. He got it out of a book. I'm DOIN' it. I tell +you it won't work." + +"Why?" Always Lightener had a WHY. He was constantly shooting it at +folks, and it behooved them to have a convincing answer. The machinist +had, and he set it forth at length and technically. Lightener listened. + +"You win," he said, when the man was done. That was all. + +More than once Ruth saw Hilda Lightener in the office. Usually the +girls in an office fancy they have a grudge against the fortunate +daughter of their employer. They are sure she snubs them, or is a snob, +or likes to show off her feathers before them. This was notably absent +in Hilda's case. She knew many by name and stopped to chat with them. +She was simple, pleasant, guiltless of pomp and circumstance in her +comings and goings. + +"They say she's going to marry young Foote. The Foote company makes +axles for us," said Ruth's neighbor, and after that Ruth became more +interested in Hilda. + +She liked Bonbright Foote and was sorry for him. Admitting the unwisdom +of his calls upon her, she had not the heart to forbid him, especially +that he had shown no signs of sentiment, or of stepping beyond the +boundary lines of simple friendship.... She saw to it that he and Dulac +did not meet. + +As for Dulac--she had disciplined him for his outbreak as was the duty +of a self-respecting young woman, and had made him eat his piece of +humble pie. It had not affected her veneration for his work, nor her +admiration for the man and his sincerity and his ability.... She had +answered his question, and the answer had been yes, for she had come to +believe that she loved him.... + +She saw how tired he was looking. She perceived the discouragements +that weighed on him, and saw, as he refused to see, that the strike was +a failure in spite of his efforts. And she was sensible. The strike had +failed; nothing was to be gained by sustaining the ebbing remnants of +it, by making men and women and children suffer futilely. ... She would +have ended it and begun straight-way preparing a strike that would not +fail. But she did not say so to him. He HAD to fight. She saw that. She +saw, too, that it was not in him to admit defeat or to surrender. It +would be necessary to crush him first. + +And then, at five o'clock, as she came out of the office she found +Bonbright Foote waiting for her in his car. It had never happened +before. + +"I--I came for you," he said, awkwardly, yet with something of +tenseness in his voice. + +"You shouldn't," she said, not unkindly. He would understand the +reasons. + +"I had to," he said. "I--all day I've done nothing but wait to see you. +I've got to talk to you.... Please, now that I'm here, won't you get +in?" + +She saw that something was wrong, that something out of the ordinary +had happened, and as she stepped into the car she shot a glance at his +set face and felt a wave of sympathy for him. + +"I want you to--to have something to eat with me--out in the country. I +want to get away from town. Let me send a messenger to your mother. I +know you don't want to, and--and all that, but you'll come, won't you?" + +Ruth considered. There was much to consider, but she knew he was an +honest, wholesome boy--and he was in trouble. + +"This once," she said, and let him see her grin. + +"Thank you," he said, simply. + +It was but a short drive to an A. D. T. office, where Bonbright wrote a +message to Mrs. Frazer: + +I'm taking your daughter to Apple Lake to dinner. I hope you won't +mind. And I promise to have her home safe and early. + +A boy was dispatched with this, and Bonbright and Ruth drove out the +Avenue with the evening sun in their faces, toward distant, beautiful +Apple Lake. Bonbright drove in silence, his eyes on the road. Ruth was +alone in her appreciation of the loveliness of the waning day. + +The messenger left on his bicycle, but had not gone farther than around +the first corner when a gentleman drew up beside him in an automobile. + +"Hey, kid, I want to speak to you," said Mr. Rangar. + +The boy stopped and the car stopped. + +"You've got a message there that I'm interested in," said Rangar. "It +isn't sealed. I want a look at it." He held out a five-dollar bill. The +boy pocketed the bill and handed over the message, which Rangar read +and returned to him. Then Rangar drove to the office from which the boy +had come and dispatched a message of his own, one not covered by his +instructions from Mr. Foote. It was a private matter with him, inspired +by an incident of the morning having to do with a rumpled necktie and a +ruffled dignity. The malice which had glittered in his eyes then was +functioning now. + +Rangar's message was to Dulac. + +"Your girl's just gone to Apple Lake with young Foote in his car," it +said. That was all, but it seemed ample to Rangar. + +Bonbright was not a reckless driver, but he drove rapidly this evening, +with a sort of driven eagerness. From, time to time Ruth turned and +glanced at his face and wondered what could have happened, for she had +never seen him like this before, even in his darkest moments. There was +a new element in his bearing, an element never there before. +Discouragement, apathy, she had seen, and bitterness. She had seen +wistfulness, hopelessness, chagrin, humiliation, but never until now +had she seen set determination, smoldering embers of rage. What, she +wondered, could this boy's father have done to him now? + +Soon they were beyond the rim of industry which banded the city, and, +leaving behind them towering chimneys, smokeless for the night, clouds +of released working-men waiting their turns to crowd into overloaded +street cars, the grimy, busy belt line which extended in a great arc +through the body of the manufacturing strip, they passed through +sprouting, mushroomlike suburban villages--villages which had not been +there the year before, which would be indistinguishable from the city +itself the year after. Farther on they sped between huge-lettered +boards announcing the location of real-estate developments which as yet +consisted only of new cement sidewalks, immature trees promising future +shade, and innumerable stakes marking lot boundaries. Mile after mile +these extended, a testimonial to the faith of men in the growth of +their city.... And then came the country, guiltless of the odors of +gregarious humanity, of gasses, of smokes, of mankind itself, and of +the operations which were preparing its food. Authentic farms spread +about them; barns and farmhouses were dropped down at intervals; +everywhere was green quiet, softened, made to glow enticingly by the +sun's red disk about to dip behind the little hills.... All this Ruth +saw and loved. It was an unaccustomed sight, for she was tied to the +city. It altered her mood, softened her, made her more pliable. +Bonbright could have planned no better than to have driven her along +this road.... + +Presently they turned off at right angles, upon a country road shaded +by century-old maples--a road that meandered leisurely along, now +dipping into a valley created for agriculture, now climbing a hillside +rich with fruit trees; and now and then, from hilltop, or through gap +in the verdure, the gleam of quiet, rush-fringed lakes came to +Ruth--and touched her, touched her so that her heart was soft and her +lashes wet.... The whole was so placid, so free from turmoil, from +competition, from the tussling of business and the surging upward of +down-weighted classes. She was grateful to it. + +Yet when, as she did now and then, she glanced at Bonbright, she felt +the contrast. All that was present in the landscape was absent from his +soul. There was no peace there, no placidity, but unrest, bitterness, +unhappiness--grimness. Yes, grimness. When the word came into her mind +she knew it was the one she had been searching for.... Why was he so +grim? + +Presently they entered upon a road which ran low beside Apple Lake +itself, with tiny ripples lapping almost at the tire marks in the sand. +She looked, and breathed deeply and gladly. If she could only live on +such a spot!... + +The club house was deserted save by the few servants, and Bonbright +gave directions that they should be served on the veranda. It was +almost the first word he had uttered since leaving the city. He led the +way to a table, from which they could sit and look out on the water. + +"It's lovely," she said. + +"I come here a good deal," he said, without explanation, but she +understood. + +"If I were you, I'd LIVE here. Every day I would have the knowledge +that I was coming home to THIS in the evening.... You could. Why don't +you, I wonder?" + +"I don't know. I can't remember a Foote who has ever lived in such a +place. If it hasn't been done in my family, of course I couldn't do it." + +She pressed her lips together at the bitter note in his voice. It was +out of tune. "Have the ancestors been after you?" she asked. She often +spoke of the ancestors lightly and jokingly, which she saw he rather +liked. + +"The whole lot have been riding me hard. And I'm a well-trained nag. I +never buck or balk.... I never did till to-day." + +"To-day?" + +"I bucked them off in a heap," he said, with no trace of humor. He was +dead serious. "I didn't know I could do it, but all of a sudden I was +plunging and rearing--and snorting, I expect.... And they were off." + +"To stay?" + +He dropped his eyes and fell silent. "Anyhow," he said, presently, +"it's a relief to be running free even for an hour." + +"When they go to climb back why don't you buck some more? Now that +they're off--keep them off." + +"It's not so easy. You see, I've been trained all my life to carry +them. You can't break off a thing like that in an instant. A priest +doesn't turn atheist in a night... and this Family Tradition business +is like a religion. It gets into your bones. You RESPECT it. You feel +it demanding things of you and you can't refuse.... I suppose there is +a duty." + +"To yourself," she said, quickly. + +"To THEM--and to the--the future.... But I bucked them off once. Maybe +they'll never ride so hard again, and maybe they'll try to break me by +riding harder.... Until to-day I never had a notion of fighting +back--but I'm going to give them a job of it now.... There are things I +WILL do. They sha'n't always have their way. Right now, Miss Frazer, +I've broken with the whole thing. They may be able to fetch me back. I +don't know.... Sometime I'll have to go. When father's through I'd have +to go, anyhow--to head the business." + +"Your father ought to change the name of the business to Family Ghosts, +Incorporated," she said, with an attempt to lighten his seriousness. + +"I'll be general manager--responsible to a board of directors from +across the Styx," he said, with an approach to a smile. "Here's our +waiter. I telephoned our order. Hope I've chosen to please you." + +"Indeed you have," she replied. "I feel quite the aristocrat. I ought +not to do this sort of thing.... But I'm glad to do it once. I abhor +the rich," she said, laughing, "but some of the things they do and have +are mighty pleasant." + +After a while she said: "If I were a rich man's wife I'd be something +more than a society gadabout. I'd insist on knowing his business... and +I'd make him do a lot of things for his workmen. Think of being a woman +and able to do so much for thousands of--of my class," she finished. + +"Your class!" he said, sharply. + +"I belong to the laboring class. First, because I was born into it, +and, second, because my heart is with it." + +"Class doesn't touch you. It doesn't concern you. You're YOURSELF." For +the first time in her acquaintance with him he made her uneasy. His +eyes and the way he spoke those sentences disturbed her. + +"Nonsense!" she said. + +Neither spoke for some time. It was growing dark now, and lights were +glowing on the veranda. "When we're through," Bonbright said, "let's +walk down by the lake. There's a bully walk and a place to sit.... I +asked you to come because I wanted to take you there--miles away from +everybody...." + +She was distinctly startled now, but helpless. She read storm signals, +but no harbor was at hand. + +"We must be getting back," she said, lamely. + +"It's not eight. We can go back in an hour.... Shall we walk down now? +I can't wait, Ruth, to say what I've got to say...." + +It was impossible to hold back, futile to attempt escape. She knew now +why he had brought her and what he wanted to say, but she could not +prevent it.... If he must have his say let it be where he desired. Very +grave now, unhappy, her joy marred, she walked down the steps by his +side and along the shore of the lake. "Here," he said, presently, +drawing her into a nook occupied by a bench. She sat down obediently. + +Was it fortunate or unfortunate that she did not know an automobile was +just turning into the lake road, a hired automobile, occupied by her +fiance, Dulac? Rangar's note had reached his hands and he had acted as +Rangar had hoped.... + + + + +CHAPTER XIII + + +Until a few moments before Ruth had never had a suspicion of +Bonbright's feeling for her; she had not imagined he would ever cross +that distinct line which separates the friend from the suitor. It was +an unpleasant surprise to her. Not that he was repugnant to her, but +she had already bestowed her affections, and now she would have to hurt +this boy who had already suffered so much at the hands of others. She +recoiled from it. She blamed herself for her blindness, but she was not +to blame. What she had failed to foresee Bonbright himself had realized +only that morning. + +He had awakened suddenly to the knowledge that his sentiment for Ruth +Frazer was not calm friendship, but throbbing love. He had been +awakened to it rudely, not as most young men are shown that they +love.... When he flung out of his father's office that morning he had +recognized only a just rage; hardly had his feet carried him over the +threshold before rage was crowded out by the realization of love. His +father's words had aroused his rage because he loved the woman they +maligned! Suddenly he knew it.... + +"It's SO," he said to himself. "It's so--and I didn't know it." + +It was disconcerting, but he was glad. Almost at once he realized what +a change this thing brought into his life, and the major consequences +of it.... First, he would have her--he must have her--he would not live +without her. It required no effort of determination to arrive at that +decision. To win her, to have her for his own, was now the one +important thing in his life. To do so would mean--what would it mean? +The Family, dead and living, would be outraged. His father would stand +aghast at his impiousness; his mother, class conscious as few of the +under dogs are ever class conscious, would refuse to receive this girl +as her daughter.... There would be bitterness--but there would be +release. By this one step he would break with the Family Tradition and +the Family Ghosts. They would cast him out.... But would they cast him +out? He was Bonbright Foote VII, crown prince of the dynasty, vested +with rights in the family and in the family's property by family laws +of primogeniture and entail.... No, he would not be cast out, could not +be cast out, for his father would let no sin of his son's stand in the +way of a perpetuation of the family. Bonbright knew that if a complete +breach opened between his father and himself it must be his hand that +opened it. His father's would never do so.... He wondered if he could +do so--if, when he was calm, he would desire to do so. + +Once he recognized his love he could not be still; office walls could +not contain him. He was in a fever to see Ruth with newly opened eyes, +with eyes that would see her as they had not seen her in the days +before.... He rushed out--to encounter Hangar, and to experience a +surging return of rage.... Then he went on, with no aim or purpose but +to get rid of the time that must pass before he could see Ruth. It was +ten o'clock, and he could not see her until five. Seven hours.... + +Now she was here, within reach of his hand, her face, not beautiful by +day, very lovely to his eyes as the rising moon stretched a ribbon of +light across the lake to touch her with its magic glow... and he could +not find words to say what must be said. + +He had seated her on the bench and now paced up and down before her, +struggling to become coherent. + +Then words came, a torrent of them, not coherent, not eloquent, but +REAL. Ruth recognized the reality in them. "I want you," he said, +standing over her. "I didn't know--I didn't realize... until to-day. +It's so.... It's been so right along. That's why I had to come to +you.... I couldn't get along without seeing you, but I didn't know +why.... I thought it was to see you smile. But it was because I had to +be near you.... I want to be near you always. This morning I found +out--and all day I've waited to see you.... That's all I've +done--thought about you and waited. It seems as if morning were years +away.... I don't know what I've done all day--just wandered around. I +didn't eat--until to-night. I couldn't. I couldn't do anything until I +saw you--and told you.... That's why I brought you here.... I wanted to +tell you HERE--not back there.... Away from all that. ... I can't go on +without you--that's what you mean to me. You're NECESSARY--like air or +water.... I--Maybe you haven't thought about me this way. I didn't +about you.... But you MUST... you MUST!" + +It was pitiful. Tears wet Ruth's cheeks and she caught her breath to +restrain a rising sob. + +He became calmer, gentler. "Maybe I've surprised you," he said. "Maybe +I've frightened you--I hope not. I don't mean to frighten you. I don't +want you ever to be frightened or worried.... I want to keep all kinds +of suffering out of your life if you'll let me. Won't you let me?..." +He stood waiting. + +"Mr. Foote," she said, presently, "I--" then she stopped. She had +intended to tell him about Dulac; that she loved him and had promised +to marry him, but she could not utter the words. It would hurt him so +to know that she loved another man. She could refuse him without that +added pain. "Don't you see," she said, "how impossible it is? It +wouldn't do--even if I cared for you." + +"If you cared for me," he said, "nothing could make it impossible." + +"We belong in different worlds.... You couldn't come down to mine; I +wouldn't fit into yours. My world wouldn't have you, and your world +wouldn't have me.... Don't you see?" + +"I don't see. What has your world or mine to do with it? It's just you +and me." + +"When you saw that your family wouldn't have me, when you found out +that your friends wouldn't be friends with me, and that they didn't +want to be friends with you any longer just because you married me ..." + +"I don't want any friends or family but you," he said, eagerly, +boyishly. + +"Be reasonable, Mr. Foote.... You're rich. Some day you'll be the head +of a great business--with thousands of men working for you.... I belong +with them. You must be against them.... I couldn't bear it. You know +all about me. I've been brought up to believe the things I believe. My +father and grandfather and HIS grandfather worked and suffered for +them.... Just as your ancestors have worked and planned for the things +you represent.... It wouldn't ever do. We couldn't be happy. Even if +I--cared--and did as you ask--it wouldn't last." + +"It would last," he said. "I KNOW. I've been trying to tell you, to +make you believe that you have crowded everything else out of my life. +There's just you in it.... It would last--and every day and every year +it would grow--more wonderful." + +"There must be agreement and sympathy between a husband and his wife, +Mr. Foote.... Oh, I KNOW. In the bigger things. And there we could +never agree. It would make trouble--trouble that couldn't be avoided +nor dodged. It would be there with us every minute--and we'd know it. +You'd know I hated the things you stand for and the things you have to +do.... No man could bear that--to have his wife constantly reproaching +him." + +"I think," he said, "that your word would be my law...." + +She sat silent, startled. Unasked, unsought, a thought had entered her +mind; a terrifying thought, but a big and vital thought. HER WORD WOULD +BE HIS LAW. Her influence would be upon him.... And he was master of +thousands of her class. He would be master of more thousands.... If she +were his wife--if her word might become his law--how would those +laboring men be affected? Would her word be his law with respect to +them?... + +She did not love him, but she did love the Cause she represented, that +her promised husband, Dulac, represented.... Her father had given his +life for it. She had given nothing. Now she could give--herself.... She +could sacrifice herself, she could pass by her love--but would it avail +anything?... This boy loved her, loved her with all his strength and +honesty. He would continue to love her. She believed that.... If, not +loving him, she should marry him, she would be able to hold his +love--and her word would be in some sort his law. She could influence +him--not abruptly, not suddenly, but gradually, cleverly, cunningly. +She could use him for her great purpose. Thousands of men might be +happier, safer from hunger and misery, closer to a realization of their +hope, if she gave herself to this boy.... She was filled with +exaltation--a Joan of Arc listening to her Voices.... + +It was possible--possible.... And if it were possible, if she could +accomplish this great thing for the Cause, dared she avoid it? Was it +not a holy duty? + +Remember her parentage, her training; remember that she had drawn into +her being enthusiasm, fanaticism with the air she breathed in the very +cradle. She was a revolutionist.... Greater crimes than loveless +marriages have been committed in the name of Enthusiasm for a Cause. + +She hesitated. What should she say?.... She must think, for a new face +was upon the matter. She must think, and she must talk with Dulac. +Dulac was stronger than she--but he saw eye to eye with her. The things +she set up and worshiped in their shrines he worshiped more +fervently.... She must put the boy off with evasion. She must postpone +her answer until she was certain she saw her duty clearly. + +Love of humanity in the mass was in her heart--it shouldered out +fairness to an individual man. She did not think of this. If she had +thought it might not have mattered, for if she were willing to immolate +herself would she not have been as ready to sacrifice one man--for the +good of thousands? + +"I-" she began, and was dimly conscious of shame at her duplicity. "I +did not know you--wanted me this way.... Let me think. I can't +answer--to-night. Wait.... Give me time." + +His voice was glad as he answered, and its gladness shamed her again. +"Wait.... I'd wait forever. But I don't want to wait forever.... It is +more than I hoped, more than I had the right to hope. I know I took you +by surprise.... Let me have time and the chance to make you love me--to +let you get used to the idea of my loving you. But try not to be long. +I'm impatient--you don't know how impatient...." + +"I-I sha'n't be long," she said. "You mustn't build too many hopes...." + +He laughed. She had never heard him laugh with such lightness, with +such a note of soul-gladness, before. "Hope.... I shall eat and drink +hope--until you--come to me. For you will come to me. I know it.... It +couldn't be any other way." He laughed again, gayly. And then from out +the blackness of the surrounding shrubbery there plunged the figure of +a man.... + +Before Bonbright could lift a hand to shield himself blows began to +fall, blows not delivered with the naked fist. Once, twice, again the +man struck with the strength of frenzy. Ruth sat silent, stunned, +paralyzed by fright, and uttered no scream. Then she saw the face of +Bonbright's assailant. It was Dulac--and she understood. + +She sprang to him, clutched at his arm, but he hurled her off and +struck again.... It was enough. Bonbright stood wavering a moment, +struggling to remain upright, but sagging slowly. Then he slumped to +the ground in a sort of uncanny sitting posture, his head sunk upon his +knees. + +Ruth stood looking down upon him with horror-widened eyes. Dulac hurled +his weapon into the bushes and turned upon her furiously, seizing her +arm and dragging her to him so that his eyes, glowing with unreason, +could burn into hers. + +"Oh--" she moaned. + +"I've taught him," Dulac said, his voice quivering with rage. "It was +time... the vermin. Because he was rich he thought he was safe. He +thought he could do anything.... But I've taught him. They starve us +and stamp on us--and then steal our wives and smirch our sweethearts." + +Ruth tried to bend over Bonbright, to lift his head, to give him +assistance, but Dulac jerked her away. + +"Don't touch him. Don't dare to touch him," he said. + +"He doesn't--move," she said, in a horrified whisper. "Maybe +you've-killed him." + +"He deserved it.... And you--have you anything to say? What are you +doing here--with him?" + +"Let me go," she panted. "Let me see--I must see. He can't be--dead. +... You--you BEAST!" she cried, shrilly. "He was good. He meant no +harm.... He loved me, and that's why this happened. It's my fault--my +fault." + +"Be still," he commanded. "He loved you--you admit it. You dare admit +it--and you here alone with him at night." + +"He asked--me--to--marry--him," she said, faintly. "He was not--what +you think.... He was a good--boy." + +Suddenly she tried to break from him to go to Bonbright, but he +clutched her savagely. "Help!... Help!..." she cried. Then his hand +closed over her mouth and he gathered her up in his arms and carried +her away. + +He did not look behind at Bonbright huddled there with the ribbon of +moonlight pointing across the lake at his limp body, but half +staggered, half ran to his waiting car.... A snarled word, and the +engine started. Ruth, choking, helpless, was carried away, leaving +Bonbright alone and still.... + + + + +CHAPTER XIV + + +Bonbright was on his hands and knees on the edge of the lake, dizzily +slopping water on his head and face. He was struggling toward +consciousness, fighting dazedly for the power to act. As one who, in a +dream, reviews the events of another half-presented dream, he knew what +had happened. Consciousness had not fully deserted him. Dulac had +attacked him; Dulac had carried Ruth away.... Somehow he had no fears +for her personal safety, but he must follow. He must KNOW that she was +safe.... + +Not many minutes had passed since Dulac struck him down. His body was +strong, well trained to sustain shocks and to recover from them, thanks +to four years of college schooling in the man's game of football. Since +he left college he had retained the respect for his body which had been +taught him, and with golf and tennis and gymnasium he had kept himself +fit... so that now his vital forces marshaled themselves quickly to +fight his battle for him. Presently he raised himself to his feet and +stood swaying dizzily; with fingers that fumbled he tied his +handkerchief about his bruised head and staggered toward his car, for +his will urged him on to follow Dulac. + +To crank the motor (for the self-starter had not yet arrived) was a +task of magnitude, but he accomplished it and pulled himself into the +seat. For a moment he lay upon the steering wheel, panting, fighting +back his weakness; then he thrust forward his control lever and the car +began to move. The motion, the kindly touch of the cool night air +against his head, stimulated him; he stepped on the gas pedal and the +car leaped forward as though eager for the pursuit. + +Out into the main road he lurched, grimly clutching the steering wheel, +leaning on it for support, his aching, blurred eyes clinging to the +illuminated way before him, and he drove as he had never ventured to +drive before. Beating against his numbed brain was his will's +sledge-hammer demands for speed, and he obeyed recklessly.... + +Roadside objects flicked by, mile after mile was dropped behind, the +city's outskirts were being snatched closer and closer--and then he saw +the other car far ahead. All that remained to be asked of his car he +demanded now, and he overhauled the smaller, less speedy machine. Now +his lights played on its rear and his horn sounded a warning and a +demand. Dulac's car veered to the side to let him pass, and he lurched +by, only turning a brief, wavering glance upon the other machine to +assure himself that Ruth was there. He saw her in a flashing second, in +the tonneau, with Dulac by her side.... She was safe, uninjured. Then +Bonbright left them behind. + +The road narrowed, with deep ditches on either hand. Here was the place +he sought. He set his brakes, shut off his power, and swung his car +diagonally across the way, so that it would be impossible for Dulac to +pass. Then he alighted, and stood waiting, holding on to his machine +for support. + +The other car came to a stop and Dulac sprang out. Bonbright saw Ruth +rise to follow; heard Dulac say, roughly: "Get back. Stay where you +are." + +"No," she replied, and stepped to the road. + +Bonbright could see how pale she was, how frightened. + +"Don't be afraid," he said to her. "Nothing is going to--happen." + +He stood erect now, free from the support of the car, waiting for +Dulac, who approached menacingly. + +"Dulac," he said, "I can't--fight you. I can't even---defend +myself--much.... Unless you insist." + +The men were facing each other now, almost toe to toe. Dulac's face was +stormy with passion under scant restraint; Bonbright, though he swayed +a bit unsteadily, faced him with level eyes. Ruth saw the decent +courage of the boy and her fear for him made her clutch Dulac's sleeve. +The man shook her off. + +"I know--why you attacked me," said Bonbright, slowly, "what you +thought.... I--stopped you to--be sure Miss Frazer was safe... and to +tell you you were--wrong.... Not that you have a--right to question me, +but nobody must think--ill of Miss Frazer.... No misunderstanding...." + +"Get that car out of the way," said Dulac. + +Bonbright shook his head. "Not till I'm--through," he said. "Then you +may--take Miss Frazer home.... But be kind to her--gentle.... I shall +ask her about it--and I sha'n't be--knocked out long." + +"You threaten me, you pampered puppy!" + +"Yes," said Bonbright, grimly, "exactly." + +Dulac started to lift his arm, but Ruth caught it. "No.... No," she +said, in a tense whisper. "You mustn't. Can't you see how--hurt he is? +He can hardly stand.... You're not a COWARD...." + +"Dulac," said Bonbright, "here's the truth: I took Miss Frazer to the +lake to--ask her to--marry me.... No other reason. She was--safe with +me--as with you. I want her for--my wife. Do you understand?... You +thought--what my father thought." + +Ruth uttered a little cry. So THAT was what had happened! + +"All the decency in the world," Bonbright said, "isn't in--union men, +workingmen.... Because I have more money than you--you want to +believe--anything of me.... You're even willing to--believe it of +her.... I can--love as well as if I were poor.... I can--honor and +respect the girl I want to marry as well as if I--carried a union +card.... That is TRUE." + +Dulac laughed shortly; then, even in his rage, he became oratorical, +theatrical. + +"We know the honor and respect of your kind.... We know what our +sisters and daughters have to expect from you. We've learned it. You +talk fair--you dangle your filthy money under their eyes--you promise +this and you promise that.... And then you throw away your toys.... +They come back to us covered with disgrace, heart-broken, marked +forever, and fit to be no man's wife.... That's your respect and honor. +That's your decency.... Leave our women alone.... Go to your +bridge-playing, silly, husband-swapping society women. They know you. +They know what to expect from you--and get what they deserve. Leave our +women alone.... Leave this girl alone. We men have to endure enough at +your hands, but we won't endure this.... We'll do as I did to-night. I +thrashed you--" + +"Like a coward, in the dark, from behind," said Bonbright, boyish pride +insisting upon offering its excuse. "I didn't stop you to argue about +capital and labor. I stopped you--to tell you the truth about to-night. +I've told it." + +"You've lied the way your kind always lies." + +Bonbright's lips straightened, his eyes hardened, and he leaned +forward. "I promised Miss Frazer nothing--should happen. It sha'n't. +... But you're a fool, Dulac. You know I'm telling the truth--but you +won't admit it--because you don't want to. Because I'm not on your +side, you won't admit it.... And that makes you a fool.... Be still. +You haven't hesitated to tell me I lied. I've taken that--and you'll +take what I have to say. It isn't much. I don't know much about +the--differences between your kind and my kind.... But your side gets +more harm than good from men like you. You're a blind fanatic. You cram +your men on lies and stir them up to hate us.... Maybe there's cause, +but you magnify it.... You won't see the truth. You won't see +reason.... You hold us apart. Maybe you're honest--fanatics usually +are, but fanatics are fools. It does no good to tell you so. I'm +wasting my breath.... Now take Miss Frazer home--and be careful how you +treat her." + +He turned his back squarely and pulled himself into his car. Then he +turned to Ruth. "Good night, Miss Frazer," he said. "I am sorry--for +all this.... May I come for--your answer to-morrow?" + +"No...." she said, tremulously. "Yes...." + +Bonbright straightened his car in the road and drove on. He was at the +end of his strength. He wanted the aid of a physician, and then he +wanted to lie down and sleep, and sleep. The day that had preceded the +attack upon him had been wearing enough to exhaust the sturdiest. The +tension of waiting, the anxiety, the mental disturbance, had demanded +their usual wages of mind and body. Sudden shock had done the rest. + +He drove to the private hospital of a doctor of his acquaintance, a +member of his club, and gained admission. The doctor himself was there, +by good fortune, and saw Bonbright at once, and examined the wounds in +his scalp. + +"Strikers get you?" he asked. + +"Automobile mix-up," said Bonbright, weakly. + +"Uh-huh!" said the doctor. "I suppose somebody picked up a light +roadster and struck you over the head with it.... Not cut much. No +stitches. A little adhesive'll do the trick--and then.... Sort of +excited, eh? Been under a bit of a strain?... None of my business, of +course.... Get into bed and I'll send up something to tone you down and +make you sleep. You've been playing in too high a key--your fiddle +strings are too tight." + +Getting into that cool, soft bed was one of the pleasantest experiences +of Bonbright's life. He was almost instantly asleep--and he still +slept, even at the deliberate hour that saw his father enter the office +at the mills. + +Mr. Foote was disturbed. He had not seen his son since the boy flung +out of the office the morning before; had had no word of him. He had +expected Bonbright to come home in the evening and had waited for him +in the library to have a word with him. He had come to the conclusion +that it would be best to throw some sort of sop to Bonbright in the way +of apparent authority, of mock responsibility. It would occupy the +boy's mind, he thought, while in no way altering the conditions, not +affecting the end to be arrived at. Bonbright must be held.... If it +were necessary to administer an anaesthetic while the operation of +remaking him into a true Foote was performed, why, the anaesthetic +would be forthcoming. + +But Bonbright did not come, even with twelve strokes of the clock. His +father retired, but in no refreshing sleep.... On that day no progress +had been made with the Marquis Lafayette. That work required a calm +that Mr. Foote could not master. + +His first act after seating himself at his desk was to summon Rangar. + +"My son was not at home last night," he said. "I have not seen him +since yesterday morning. I hope you can give me an account of him." + +"Not home last night, Mr. Foote!" Manifestly Rangar was startled. He +had not been at ease before, for he had been unable to pick up any +trace of the boy this morning; had not seen him return home the night +before.... It might be that he had gone too far when he sent his +anonymous note to Dulac. Dulac had gone in pursuit, of that he had made +sure. But what had happened? Had the matter gone farther than the mere +thrashing he had hoped for?... He was frightened. + +"I directed you to keep him under your eye." + +"Your directions were followed, Mr. Foote, so far as was possible. I +know where he was yesterday, and where he went last night, but when a +young man is running around the country in an automobile with a girl, +it's mighty hard to keep at his heels. He was with that girl." + +"When?... What happened?" + +"He waited for her at the Lightener plant. She works there now. They +drove out the Avenue together--some place into the country. Mr. +Bonbright is a member of the Apple Lake Club, and I was sure they were +going there.... That's the last I know." + +"Telephone the Apple Lake Club. See if he was there and when he left." + +Rangar retired to do so, and returned presently to report that +Bonbright and a young lady had dined there, but had not been seen after +they left the table. Nobody could say when they went away from the club. + +"Call Malcolm Lightener--at his office. Once the boy stayed at his +house." + +Rangar made the call, and, not able to repress the malice that was in +him, went some steps beyond his directions. Mr. Lightener was on the +wire. + +"This is Rangar, Mr. Lightener--Bonbright Foote, Incorporated. Mr. +Foote wished me to inquire if you had seen Mr. Bonbright between six +o'clock last night and this morning." + +"No.... Why does he ask me? What's the matter?" + +"Mr. Foote says Bonbright stayed with you one night, and thought he +might have done so again. Mr. Foote is worried, sir. The young man +has--er--vanished, so to speak. He was seen last at your plant about +five o'clock. In his automobile, Mr. Lightener. He was waiting for a +young woman who works for you--a Miss Frazer, I understand. Used to be +his secretary. They drove away together, and he hasn't been seen +since.... Mr. Foote has feared some sort of--er--understanding between +them." + +"Huh!" grunted Lightener. "Don't know anything about it. Tell Foote to +look after his own son... if he knows how." Then the receiver clicked. + +Lightener swung away from the telephone and scowled at the wall. "He +don't look it," he said, presently, "and I'm darned if SHE does.... +Huh!..." He pressed a button. "Send in Miss Frazer," he said to the boy +who answered the buzzer. + +In a moment Ruth stood in the door. He let her stand while he +scrutinized her briefly. She looked ill. Her eyes were dull and marked +by surrounding darkness. She had no color. He shook his head Like a +displeased lion. + +"Miss Frazer," he said, gruffly, "I make it a practice always to mind +my own business except when there's some reason for not minding +it--which is frequent." + +"Yes, sir," she said, as he paused. + +"Yes, sir.... Yes, sir. What do YOU know about it? Come in and shut the +door. Come over here where I can look at you. What's the matter? Ill? +If you're sick what are you doing here? Home's the place for you." + +"I'm not ill, Mr. Lightener." + +"Huh!... I liked your looks--like 'em yet. Like everybody's looks who +works here, or I wouldn't have 'em.... You're all right, I'll bet a +dollar--all RIGHT.... You know young Foote got you your job here?" + +He saw the sudden intake of her breath as Bonbright's name was +mentioned. "Yes," she said, faintly. + +"What about him?... Know him well? LIKE HIM?" + +"I--I know him quite well, Mr. Lightener. Yes, I--like him." + +"Trust him?" + +She looked at him a moment before replying; then her chin lifted a +trifle and there came a glint into her eyes. "Absolutely," she said. + +"Um!... Good enough. So do I.... Enough to let him play around with my +daughter.... Has he anything to do with the way you look to-day?... Not +a fair question--yet. You needn't answer." + +"I shouldn't," she said, and he smiled at the asperity of her tone. + +"Mr. Bonbright Foote seems to be causing his family anxiety," he said. +"He's disappeared.... I guess they think you carried him off. Did you +go somewhere with him in his car last night?" + +"You have no right to question me, Mr. Lightener." + +"Don't I know it? I tell you I like you and I like him--and I think his +father's a stiff-backed, circumstantial, ancestor-ridden damn fool.... +Something's happened or Foote wouldn't be telephoning around. He's got +reason to be frightened, and good and frightened. ... A girl, +especially a girl in your place, hasn't any business being mixed up in +any mess, much less with a young millionaire.... That's why I'm not +minding my own business. You work for me, don't you--and ain't I +responsible for you, sort of? Well, then? Were you with Bonbright last +night?" + +"Yes, sir." + +"Huh!... Something happened, didn't it?" "Nothing that--Mr. Foote had +anything to do with--" + +"But something happened. What?" + +"I can't tell you, Mr. Lightener." + +He shrugged his shoulders. + +"Where is he now?" + +"I don't know." + +"When did you see him last?" + +"A little after nine o'clock last night." + +"Where?" + +"Going toward home--I thought." + +"He didn't go there. Where else would he go?" + +"I don't--know." Her voice broke, her self-control was deserting her. + +"Hey!... Hold on there. No hysterics or anything. Won't have 'em. Brace +up." + +"Let me alone, then," she said, childishly. "Why can't you let me +alone?" + +"I--Confound it! I'm not deviling you. I'm trying to haul you out of a +muss. Quit it, will you?" She had sunk into a chair and covered her +face. He got up and stood over her, scowling. "Will you stop it? Hear +me? Stop it, I tell you'... What's the matter--anyhow? If Bonbright +Foote's done anything to you he hadn't ought to I'll skin him alive." + +The door opened and Hilda Lightener tripped into the room. "Hello, +dad!" she said. "Surprise.... I want to--" She stopped to look at her +father, and then at Ruth, crouched in her chair. "What's the matter, +dad?" Hilda asked. "You haven't been scaring this little girl? If you +have--" She paused threateningly. + +"Oh, the devil!... I'll get out. You see if you can make her stop it. +Cuddle her, or something. I've done a sweet job of it.... Miss Frazer, +this is my daughter. Er--I'm going away from here." And he went, +precipitately. + +There was a brief silence; then Hilda laid her hand on Ruth's head. +"What's dad been doing to you?" she asked. "Scare you? His bark's a +heap sight worse than his bite." + +"He--he's good," said Ruth, tearfully. "He was trying to be good to +me.... I'm just upset--that's all. I'll be--all right in a moment." But +she was not all right in a moment. Her sobs increased. The strain, the +anxiety, a sleepless night of suffering--and the struggle she had +undergone to find the answer to Bonbright's question--had tried her to +the depths of her soul. Now she gave quite away and, unwillingly +enough, sobbed and mumbled on Hilda Lightener's shoulder, and clung to +the larger girl pitifully, as a frightened baby clings to its mother. + +Hilda's face grew sober, her eyes darkened, as, among Ruth's broken, +fragmentary, choking words, she heard the name of Bonbright Foote. But +her arm did not withdraw from about Ruth's shoulders, nor did the +sympathy in her kind voice lessen.... Most remarkable of all, she did +not give way to a very natural curiosity. She asked no question. + +After a time Ruth grew quieter, calmer. + +"I'll tell you what you need," said Hilda. "It's to get away from here. +My electric's downstairs. I'm going to take you away from father. We'll +drive around a bit, and then I'll run you home.... You're all aquiver." + +She went out, closing the door after her. Her father was pacing +uneasily up and down the alley between the desks, and she motioned to +him. + +"She's better now. I'm going to take her home.... Dad, she was +muttering about Bonbright. What's he got to do with this?" + +"I don't know, honey. Nothing--nothing ROTTEN.... It isn't in him--nor +HER." + +Hilda nodded. + +"Bonbright seems to have disappeared," her father said. + +"DISAPPEARED?" + +"His father's hunting for him, anyhow. Hasn't been home all night." + +"I don't blame him," said Hilda, with a flash in her eyes. "But what's +this girl got to do with it?" + +"I wish you'd find out. I was trying to--and that blew up the house." + +"I'll try nothing of the kind," she said. "Of course, if she WANTS to +tell me, and DOES tell me, I'll listen.... But I won't tell you. You +run your old factory and keep out of such things. You just MESS them." + +"Yes, ma'am," he said, with mock submissiveness, "it looks like I do +just that." + +Hilda went back into the room, and presently she and Ruth emerged and +went out of the building. That day began their acquaintance, which was +to expand into a friendship very precious to both of them--and one day +to be the rod and staff that sustained Ruth and kept her from despair. + + + + +CHAPTER XV + + +Hilda Lightener represented a new experience to Ruth. Never before had +she come into such close contact with a woman of a class she had been +taught to despise as useless and worse than useless. Even more than +they hated the rich man Ruth's class hated the rich man's wife and +daughter. Society women stood to them for definite transgressions of +the demands of human equality and fairness and integrity of life. They +were parasites, wasters, avoiding the responsibilities of womanhood and +motherhood. They flaunted their ease and their luxuries. They were +arrogant. When their lives touched the lives of the poor it was with +maddening condescension. In short, they were not only no good, but were +flagrantly bad. + +The zealots among whom Ruth's youth had lain knew no exceptions to this +judgment. All so-called society women were included. Now Ruth was +forced to make a revision.... All employers of labor had been +malevolent. Experience had proven to her that Bonbright Foote was not +malevolent, and that a more conspicuous, vastly more powerful figure in +the industrial world, Malcolm Lightener, was human, considerate, +respectful of right, full of unexpected disturbing virtues.... Ruth was +forced to the conclusion that there were good men and good women where +she had been taught to believe they did not exist.... It was a +pin-prick threatening the bubble of her fanaticism. + +She had not been able to withhold her liking from Hilda Lightener. +Hilda was strongly attracted by Ruth. King Copetua may occasionally wed +the beggar maid, but it is rare for his daughter or his sister to +desire a beggar maid's friendship. + +Hilda did not press Ruth for confidences, nor did Ruth bestow them. But +Hilda succeeded in making Ruth feel that she was trustworthy, that she +offered her friendship sincerely.... That she was an individual to +depend on if need came for dependence. They talked. At first Hilda +carried on a monologue. Gradually Ruth became more like her sincere, +calm self, and she met Hilda's advances without reservation.... When +Hilda left her at her home both girls carried away a sense of +possessing something new of value. + +"Don't you come back to the office to-day," Hilda told her. "I'll +settle dad." + +"Thank you," said Ruth. "I do need--rest. I've got to be alone +to--think." That was the closest she came to opening her heart. + +She did have to think, though she had thought and reasoned and suffered +the torture of mental conflict through a nearly sleepless night. She +had told Bonbright to come on this day for her answer.... She must have +her answer ready. Also she must talk the thing over with Dulac. That +would be hard--doubly hard in the situation that existed. + +Last night she had not spoken of it to him; had scarcely spoken to him +at all, as he had been morosely silent to her. She had been shocked, +frightened by his violence, yet she knew that his violence had been +honest violence, perpetrated because he believed her welfare demanded +it. She did not feel toward him the aversion that the average girl +might have felt for one who precipitated her into such a scene.... She +was accustomed to violence and to the atmosphere of violence. + +When she and Dulac arrived at the Frazer cottage, he had helped her to +alight. Then he uttered a rude apology, but a sincere one--according to +his lights. + +"I'm sorry I had to do it with you watching," he said. Then, curtly, +"Go to bed now." + +Clearly he suspected her of no wrongdoing, of no intention toward +future wrongdoing. She was a VICTIM. She was a pigeon fascinated by a +serpent. + +Now she went to her room, and remained there until the supper hour. + +When she and her mother and Dulac were seated at the table her mother +began a characteristic Jeremiad. "I hope you ain't coming down with a +spell of sickness. Seems like sickness in the family's about the only +thing I've been spared, though other things worse has been aplenty. +Here we are just in a sort of a breathing spell, and you begin to look +all peeked and home from work, with maybe losing your place, for +employers is hard without any consideration, and food so high and all. +I wasn't born to no ease, nor any chance of looking forward like some +women, though doing my duty at all times to the best of my ability. And +now you on the verge of a run of the fever, with nobody can say how +long in bed, and doctors and medicines and worry...." + +"I'm not going to be ill, mother," Ruth said. "Please don't worry about +me." + +"If a mother can't worry about her own daughter, then I'd like to know +what she can do," said Mrs. Frazer, with the air of one suffering +meekly a studied affront. + +Ruth turned to Dulac. "Before you go downtown," she said, "I want to +talk to you." + +Dulac had not hoped to escape a reckoning with Ruth, and now he +supposed she was demanding it. Well, as well now as later, if the thing +had to be. He was a trifle sulky about it; perhaps, now that his blind +rage had subsided, not wholly satisfied with himself and his conduct. +"All right," he said, and went silently on with his meal. After a time +he pushed back his chair. "I've got a meeting downtown," he said to +Ruth, paving the way for a quick escape. + +"Maybe what I have to say," she said, gravely, "will be as important as +your meeting," and she preceded him into the little parlor. + +His attitude was defensive; he expected to be called on for +explanations, to be required to soothe resentment; his mental condition +was more or less that of a schoolboy expecting a ragging. + +Ruth did not begin at once, but walked over to the window, and, leaning +her elbow against the frame, pressed her forehead against the cool +glass. She wanted to clear and make direct and coherent her thoughts. +She wanted to express well, leaving no ground for misunderstanding of +herself or her motives, what she had to say. Then she turned, and began +abruptly; began in a way that left Dulac helplessly surprised, for it +was not the attack he expected. + +"Mr. Foote asked me to marry him, last night," she said, and stopped. +"That is why he took me out to the lake.... I hadn't any idea of it +before. I didn't know... He was honest and sincere. At first I was +astonished. I tried to stop him. I was going to tell him I loved you +and that we were going to be married." She stopped again, and went on +with an effort. "Then something came to me--and it frightened me. All +the time he was talking to me I kept on thinking about it... and I +didn't want to think about it because of--you.... You know I want to do +something for the Cause--something big, something great! It's hard for +a woman to do such a thing--but I saw a chance. It was a hard chance, a +bitter chance, but it was there.... I'm not a doll. I think I could be +strong. He's just a boy, and I am strong enough to influence him.... +And I thought how his wife could help. Don't you see? He will own +thousands of laboring men--thousands and thousands. If I married him I +could do--what couldn't I do?--for them. I would make him see through +my eyes. I would make him UNDERSTAND. My work would be to make him +better conditions, to give those thousands of men what they are +entitled to, to give them all men like you and like my father have +taught me they ought to have.... I could do it. I know. Think of +it--thousands of men, and then--wives and children, made happier, made +contented, given their fair share--and by me!... That's what I thought +about--and so--so I didn't refuse him. I didn't tell him about you.... +I told him I'd give him my answer--later...." + +His face had changed from sullenness to relief, from relief to +astonishment, then to black anger. + +"Your answer," he said, passionately. "What answer could you give but +one? You're mine. You've promised me. That's the answer you'll give +him.... You THOUGHT. I know what you thought. You thought about his +money--about his millions. You thought what his wife would have, how +she would live. You thought about luxuries, about automobiles, about +jewels.... Laboring men!... Hell! He showed you the kingdoms of the +earth--and you wanted them. He offered to buy you--and you looked at +the price and it was enough to tempt you.... You'll give him no answer. +I'll give it to him, and it'll be the same kind of answer I gave him +last night.... But this time he won't get up so quick. This time..." + +"Stop!... That's not true. You know it's not true.... I've promised to +marry you--and I've loved you. Yes, I've loved you.... I'm glad of +that. It makes the sacrifice real. It makes all the more I have to +give.... Father gave his life. You're giving your life and your +strength and your abilities.... I want to give, too, and so I'm glad, +glad that I love you, and that I can give that.... If I didn't love +you, if I did care for Mr. Foote, it would be different. I would be +afraid I was marrying him because of what he is and what he has. ... +But I am giving up more than he can ever return to me with all his +money.... Money can't buy love. It can't give back to me that happiness +I would have known with you, working for you, suffering with you, +helping you. It's my chance.... You must see. You must believe the +truth. I couldn't bear it if you didn't--if you didn't see that I am +throwing away my happiness and giving myself--just for the Cause. That +I am giving all of myself--not to a quick, merciful death. That +wouldn't be hard.... But to years of misery, to a lifetime of +suffering. Knowing I love you, I will have to go to him, and be his +wife, and pretend--pretend--day after day, year after year, that I love +him.... I'll have to deceive him. I'll have to hold his love and make +it stronger, and I'll--I'll come to loathe him. Does that sound easy? +Could money buy that? Look into your heart and see...." + +He strode to her, and his hands fell heavily on her shoulders, his +black, blazing eyes burned into hers. + +"You love me--you haven't lied to me?" he demanded, hoarsely. + +"I love you." + +"Then, by God! you're mine, and I'll have you. He sha'n't buy you away +if I have to kill him. You're mine, do you hear?--MINE!" + +"Who do you belong to?" she asked. "If I demanded that you give up your +work, abandon the Cause, would you do it for me?" + +"No." + +"You belong to the Cause--not to me.... I belong to the Cause, too. ... +Body and soul I belong to it. What am I to you but a girl, an incident? +Your duty lies toward all those men. Your work is to help them.... Then +you should give me willingly; if I hesitate you should try to force me +to do this thing-for it will help. What other thing could do what it +will do? Think! THINK!... THINK!" + +"You're mine.... He has everything else. His kind take everything else +from us. Now they want our wives. They sha'n't have them.... He sha'n't +have them.... He sha'n't have you." + +"It is for me to say," she replied, gently. "I'm so sorry--so sorry--if +it hurts you. I'm sorry any part of the suffering and sorrow must fall +on you. If I could only bear it alone! If I can help, it's my right to +help, and to give.... Don't make it harder. Oh, don't make it harder!" + +He flung her from him roughly. "You're like all of them.... Wealth +dazzles you. You fear poverty.... Softness, luxuries--you all--you +women--are willing to sell your souls for them." + +"Did my mother sell her soul for luxuries? If she did, where are they? +Did your mother sell her soul for them?... Have the wives of all the +men who have worked and suffered and been trampled on for the Cause +sold their souls?... You're bitter. I--I am sorry--so sorry. If you +care for me as I do for you--I--I know how bitterly hard it will +be--to--give me up--to see me his wife...." + +"I'll never see that. You can throw me over, but you'll never marry +him." + +"You're big--you're big enough to see this as I see it, and big enough +to let me do it.... You will be when--the surprise and the first hurt +of it have gone. It's asking just one more thing of you--when you've +willingly given so much.... But it's I who do the harder giving. In a +few months, in a year, you will have forgotten me.... I can never +forget you. Every day and every hour I'll be reminded of you. I'll be +thinking of you.... When I greet HIM it will be YOU I'm greeting.... +When I am pretending to--to care for him, it will be YOU I am loving. +The thought of that, and the knowledge of what I am doing for those +poor men--will be all the happiness I shall have... will give me +courage to live on and to GO on.... You believe me, don't you, dear? +You must, you must believe me!" + +He approached her again. "Look at me!... Look at me," he demanded, and +she gave her eyes to his. They were pure eyes, the eyes of an +enthusiast, the eyes of a martyr. He could not misread them, even in +his passion he could not doubt them.... The elevation of her soul shone +through them. Constancy, steadfastness, courage, determination, +sureness, and loftiness of purpose were written there.... He turned +away, his head sinking upon his breast, and when he spoke the passion, +the rancor, the bitterness, were gone from his voice. It was lower, +quivering, almost gentle. + +"You sha'n't.... It isn't necessary. It isn't required of you." + +"If it is possible, then it is required of me," she said. + +"No.... No...." He sank into a chair and covered his face, and she +could hear the hissing of his breath as he fought for self-control. + +"If it were you," she said. "If you could bring about the things I +can--the good for so many--would you hesitate? Is there anything you +wouldn't do to give THEM what I can give?... You know there's not. You +know you could withhold no sacrifice.... Then don't make this one +harder for me. Don't stand in my way." + +"I HATE him," Dulac said, in a tense whisper. "If you--married him and +I should meet him--I couldn't keep my hands off him.... The thought of +YOU--of HIM--I'd KILL him...." + +"You wouldn't," she said. "You'd think of ME--and you'd remember that I +love you--and that I have given you up--and all the rest, so I could be +his wife--and rule him.... And you wouldn't make it all futile by +killing him.... Then I'd be helpless. I've got to have him to--to do +the rest." + +She went to him, and stroked his black, waving hair--so gently. + +"Go now, my dear," she said. "You've got to rise to this with me. +You've got to sustain me.... Go now.... My mind is made up. I see my +way...." Her voice trembled pitifully. "Oh, I see my way--and it is +hard, HARD...." + +"No," he cried, struggling to his feet. + +"Yes," she said, softly. "Good-by.... This is our good-by. I--oh, my +dear, don't forget--never forget--Oh, go, GO!" + +In that moment it seemed to her that her heart was bursting for him, +that she loved him to the very roots of her soul. She was sure at last, +very sure. She was certain she was not blinded by glamour, not +fascinated by the man and his part in the world.... If there had been, +in a secret recess of her heart, a shadow of uncertainty, it was gone +in this moment. + +"Good-by," she said. + +He arose and walked toward the door. He did not look at her. His hand +was on the knob, and the door was opening, yet he did not turn or +look.... "Good-by.... Good-by," she sobbed--and he was GONE... + +She was alone, and through all the rest of her years she must be alone. +She had mounted the altar, a sacrifice, a willing sacrifice, but never +till this minute had she experienced the full horror and bitterness and +woe that were required of her.... She was ALONE. + +The world has seen many minor passions in the Garden. It sees and +passes on, embodying none of them in deathless epic as His passion was +embodied.... Men and women have cried out to listening Heaven that the +cup might pass from their lips, and it has not been permitted to pass, +as His was not permitted to pass. In the souls of men and of women is +something of the divine, something high and marvelous--a gift from +Heaven to hold the human race above the mire which threatens to engulf +it.... Every day it asserts itself somewhere; in sacrifice, in +devotion, in simple courage, in lofty renunciation. It is common; +wonderfully, beautifully common... yet there are men who do not see it, +or, seeing, do not comprehend, and so despair of humanity.... Ruth, +crouching on the floor of her little parlor, might have numbered +countless brothers and sisters, had she known.... She was uplifting +man, not because of the thing she might accomplish, but because she was +willing to seek its accomplishment.... + +Her eyes were dry. She could not weep. She could only crouch there and +peer into the blackness of the gulf that lay at her feet.... Then the +doorbell rang, and she started. Eyes wide with tragedy, she looked +toward the door, for she knew that there stood Bonbright Foote, come +for his answer.... + + + + +CHAPTER XVI + + +Bonbright had disobeyed the physician's orders to stay in bed all day, +but when he arose he discovered that there are times when even a +restless and impatient young man is more comfortable with his head on a +pillow. So until evening he occupied a lounge with what patience he +could muster. So it was that Rangar had no news of him during the day +and was unable to relieve his father's increasing anxiety. Mr. Foote +was not anxious now, but frightened; frightened as any potentate might +be who perceived that the succession was threatened, that extinction +impended over his line. + +Bonbright scarcely tasted the food that was brought him on a tray at +six o'clock. He was afire with eagerness, for the hour was almost there +when he could go to Ruth for her answer. He arose, somewhat dizzily, +and demanded his hat, which was given him with protests. It was still +too early to make his call, but he could not stay away from the +neighborhood, so he took a taxicab to Ruth's corner, and there +alighted. For half an hour he paced slowly up and down, eying the +house, picturing in his mind Ruth in the act of accepting him or Ruth +in the act of refusing him. One moment hope flashed high; the next it +was quenched by doubt.... He saw Dulac leave the house; waited another +half hour, and then rang the doorbell. + +Mrs. Frazer opened the door. + +"Evening, Mr. Foote," she said, without enthusiasm, for she had not +approved of this young man's calls upon her daughter. + +"Miss Frazer is expecting me," he said, diffidently, for he was +sensitive to her antagonism. + +"In the parlor," said she, "and no help with the dishes, which is to be +expected at her age, with first one young man and then another, which, +if she gets any pleasure out of it, I'm not one to deny her, though not +consulted. If I was starting over again I'd wish it was a son to be +traipsing after some other woman's daughter and not a daughter to have +other women's sons traipsing after.... That door, Mr. Foote. Go right +in." + +Bonbright entered apprehensively, as one might enter a court room where +a jury was about to rise and declare its verdict of guilty or not +guilty. He closed the door after him mechanically. + +"Ruth..." he said. + +Her face, marked with tears, not untouched by suffering, startled him. +"Are you--ill?" he said. + +"Just--just tired" she said. + +"Shall I go?... Shall I come again to-morrow?" + +"No." She was aware of his concern, of the self-effacing thoughtfulness +of his offer. He was a good boy, decent and kind. He deserved better +than he was getting.... She bit her lips and vowed that, giving no +love, she would make him happy. She must make him happy. + +"You know why I've come, Ruth," he said. "It has seemed a long time to +wait--since last night. You know why I've come?" + +"Yes." + +"You have--thought about me?" + +"Yes." + +He stepped forward eagerly. "You look so unhappy, so tired. It hasn't +been worrying you like this? I couldn't bear to think it had.... I--I +don't want you ever worried or tired, but always--glad.... I've been +walking up and down outside for an hour. Couldn't stay away.... Ruth, +you haven't been out of my mind since last night--since yesterday +morning. I've had time to think about you.... I'm beginning to realize +how much you mean to me. I'll never realize it fully--but it will come +to me more every day, and every day I shall love you more than I did +the day before--if your answer can be yes. ..." He turned away his head +and said, "I'm afraid to ask...." + +"I will marry you," she said, in a dead voice. She felt cold, numb. Her +body seemed without sensation, but her mind was sharply clear. She +wanted to scream, but she held herself. + +His face showed glad, relieved surprise. The shine of his eyes accused +her.... She was making capital of his love--for a great and worthy +purpose--but none the less making capital of it. She was sorry for him, +bitterly sorry for herself. He came forward eagerly, with arms +outstretched to receive her, but she could not endure that--now. She +could not endure his touch, his caress. + +"Not now.... Not yet," she said, holding up her hand as though to ward +him off. "You mustn't." + +His face fell and he stopped short. He was hurt--surprised. He did not +understand, did not know what to make of her attitude. + +"Wait," she said, pitifully. "Oh, be patient with me.... I will marry +you. I will be a good--a faithful wife to you.... But you must be +patient with me. Let me have time.... Last night--and all to-day-have +been--hard.... I'm not myself. Can't you see?..." + +"Don't you love me?" he asked. + +"I--I've said I would marry you," she replied. Then she could restrain +herself no longer. "But let it be soon--soon," she cried, and throwing +herself on the sofa she burst into tears. + +Bonbright did not know what to do. He had never seen a woman cry so +before.... Did girls always act this way when they became engaged? Was +it the usual thing, or was something wrong with Ruth? He stood by, +dumbly waiting, unhappy when he knew he should be happy; troubled when +he knew there should be no cloud in his sky; vaguely apprehensive when +he knew he should be looking into the future with eyes confident of +finding only happiness there. + +He wanted to pick her up and comfort her in his arms. He could do it, +he could hold her close and safe, for she was so small. But he dared +not touch her. She had forbidden it; her manner had forbidden it more +forcefully than her words. He came closer, and his hand hovered over +her hair, her hair that he would have loved to press with his lips-he, +he did not dare. + +"Ruth," he said.... "Ruth!" + +Suddenly she sat up and faced him; forced herself to speak; compelled +herself to rise to this thing that she had done and must see through. + +"I'm--ashamed," she said, irrepressible sobs interrupting her. "It's +silly, isn't it--but--but it's hard to KNOW. It's for so long--so LONG!" + +"Yes," he said, "that's the best part of it.... I shall have you +always." + +Always. He should have her always! It was no sentence for a month or a +year, but for life. She was tying herself to this boy until death +should free her.... She looked at him, and thanked God that he was as +he was, young, decent, clean, capable of loving her and cherishing +her.... For her sake she was glad it was he, but his very attributes +accused her. She was accepting these beautiful gifts and was giving in +return spurious wares. For love she would give pretense of love. ... +Yet if he had been other than he was, if he had been old, seeking her +youth as some men might seek it, steeped in experience to satiety as +some rich man might have been, she knew she could not have gone through +with it. To such a man she could not have given herself--even for the +Cause.... Bonbright made his own duping a possibility. + +"I--I sha'n't act this way again," she said, trying to smile. "You +needn't be afraid.... It's just nerves." + +"Poor kid!" he said, softly, but even yet he dared not touch her. + +"You want me? You're very, very sure you want me? How do you know? I +may not be what you think I am. Maybe I'm different. Are you sure, +Bonbright?" + +"It's the only thing in the world I am sure of," he said. + +"And you'll be good to me?... You'll be patient with me, and gentle? +Oh, I needn't ask. I know you will. I know you're good...." + +"I love you," was his reply, and she deemed it a sufficient answer. + +"Then," she said, "let's not wait. There's no need to wait, is there? +Can't it be right away?" + +His face grew radiant. "You mean it, Ruth?" + +"Yes," she said. + +"A month?" + +"Sooner." + +"A week?" + +"Sooner.... Sooner." + +"To-morrow? You couldn't?... You don't mean--TO-MORROW?" + +She nodded, for she was unable to speak + +"Sweetheart," he cried, and again held out his arms. + +She shook her head and drew back. "It's been so--so quick," she said. +"And to-morrow comes so soon.... Not till then. I'll be your wife +then--your WIFE." + +"To-morrow morning? I will come to-morrow morning? Can it be then?" + +"Yes." + +"I--I will see to everything. We'll be married, and then we will go +away--somewhere. Where would you like to go, Ruth?" + +"Anywhere.... I don't care. Anywhere." + +"It 'll be my secret," he said, in his young blindness. "We'll start +out--and you won't know where we're going. I sha'n't tell you. I'll +pick out the best place in the world, if I can find it, and you won't +know where we're going till we get there.... Won't that be bully?... I +hate to go now, dear, but you're all out of sorts--and I'll have a heap +of things to do--to get ready. So will you." He stopped and looked at +her pleadingly, but she could not give him what his eyes asked; she +could not give him her lips to-night.... He waited a moment, then, very +gently, he took her hand and touched it with his lips. + +"I'm patient," he said, softly. "You see how patient I am.... I can +wait... when waiting will bring me so much.... At twelve o'clock? +That's the swell hour," he laughed. "Shall I drag along a bishop or +will an ordinary minister do?" + +She tried to smile in response. + +"Good night, dear," he said, and raised her hand again to his lips. + +"Good night." + +"Is that all?" + +"All." + +"No--trimmings? You might say good night to the groceryman that way." + +"Good night--dear," she said, obediently. + +"It's true. I'm not dreaming it. Noon TO-MORROW?" + +"Noon to-morrow," she repeated. + +He walked to the door, stopped, turned, hesitated as if to come back. +Then he smiled at her boyishly, happily, wagged his head gayly, as +though admonishing himself to be about his business and to stop +philandering, and went out.... He did not see her drag herself to the +sofa wearily; he did not see her sink upon it and bury her face again +in the cushions; he did not hear the sobs that wrenched and shook +her.... He would then have understood that this was not the usual way +for a girl to enter her engagement. He would have understood that +something was wrong, very wrong. + +After waiting a long time for her daughter to come out, Mrs. Frazer +opened the door determinedly and went in. Ruth sat up and, wiping her +eyes on a tear-soggy handkerchief, said: + +"I'm going to marry Bonbright Foote to-morrow noon mother." + +Mrs. Frazer sat down very suddenly in a chair which was fortunately at +hand, and stared at her daughter. + +"Of all things..." she said, weakly. + +Bonbright was on the way to make a similar announcement to his parents. +It was a task he did not approach with pleasure; indeed, he did not +look forward with pleasure to any sort of meeting with his father. In +his heart he had declared his independence. He had broken away from +Bonbright Foote, Incorporated, had clambered out of the family +groove--had determined to be himself and to maintain his individuality +at any cost.... Ruth would make it easier for him. To marry Ruth was +the first great step toward independence and the throwing off of the +yoke of the Foote tradition. + +As he walked home he planned out what he would say and what he would do +with respect to his position in the family. He could not break away +from the thing wholly. He could not step out of Bonbright Foote, +Incorporated, as one steps out of an old coat, and think no more of it. +No.... But he would demand concessions. He would insist upon being +something in the business, something real. He would no longer be an +office boy, a rubber stamp, an automaton, to do thus and to do so when +his father pressed the requisite buttons.... Oh, he would go back to +the office, but it would be to a very different office and to function +in a very different manner. + +The family ghosts had been dissatisfied with him. Well, they could go +hang. Using his father as the working tool, they had sought to remake +him according to their pattern. He would show them. There would be a +row, but he was buoyed up for whatever might happen by what had just +happened.... The girl he loved had promised to marry him--and +to-morrow. With a consciousness of that he was ready for anything. + +He did not realize how strongly he was gripped by the teaching that had +been his from his cradle; he did not realize how the Foote tradition +was an integral part of him, as his arm or his skin. It would not be so +easy to escape. Nor, perhaps, would his father be so ready to make +concessions. He thought of that. But he banished it from his mind. When +his father saw how determined he was the concessions would follow. They +would have to follow. He did not ask himself what would happen if they +did not follow. + +Of course his father and mother would resent Ruth. Because Bonbright +loved her so truly he was unable to see how anybody could resent her +very much. He was blinded by young happiness. Optimism had been born in +him in a twinkling, and set aside a knowledge of his parents and their +habits of thought and life that should have warned him. He might have +known that his father could have overlooked anything but this--the +debasing of the Foote blood by mingling with it a plebeian, +boarding-house strain; he might have comprehended that his mother, Mrs. +Bonbright Foote VI, no less, could have excused crime, could have +winked at depravity, but could never tolerate a daughter-in-law of such +origin; would never acknowledge or receive her. + +As a last resort, to save Bonbright Foote, Incorporated, his father +might even submit to Bonbright's wife; his mother did not bow so low +before that god; her particular deity was a social deity. If +Bonbright's argosy did not wreck against the reef of his father, it +never could weather the hidden rock of his mother's class consciousness. + +Bonbright went along, whistling boyishly. He was worried, but not so +worried but that he could find room also to be very happy. Everything +would come out all right.... Young folks are prone to trust implicitly +to the goodness of the future. The future will take care of troubles, +will solve difficulties, will always bring around a happy ending. He +was not old enough or experienced enough to know that the future +bothers with nobody's desires, but goes on turning out each day's work +with calm detachment, continues to move its endless film of tomorrow's +events to the edge of its kingdom and to give them life on the screen +of to-day. It does not change or retouch the film, but gives it to +to-day as it is, relentlessly, without pity and without satisfaction. + +Bonbright saw the future as a benignant soul; he did not realize it is +a nonsentient machine. + + + + +CHAPTER XVII + + +Bonbright stopped in the library door, for he saw there not only his +father, whom he had expected to see, but his mother also. He had not +foreseen this. It made the thing harder to tell, for he realized in an +instant how his mother would receive the news. He wished he had been +less abrupt, but here he was and there could be no drawing back now. +His mother was first to see him. + +"Bonbright..." she said, rising. + +He walked to her and kissed her, not speaking. + +"Where have you been? Your father and I have been terribly worried. Why +did you stay away like this, without giving us any word?" + +"I'm sorry if I've worried you, mother," he said, but found himself +dumb when he tried to offer an explanation of his absence. + +"You have worried us," said his father, sharply. "You had no business +to do such a thing. How were we to know something hadn't happened to +you--with the strike going on?" + +"It was very inconsiderate," said his mother. + +There fell a silence awkward for Bonbright. His parents were expecting +some explanation. He had come to give that explanation, but his +mother's presence complicated the situation, made it more difficult. +There had never been that close confidence between Mrs. Foote and +Bonbright which should exist between mother and son. He had never +before given much thought to his relations with her; had taken them as +a matter of course. He had not given to her that love which he had seen +manifested by other boys for their mothers, and which puzzled him. She +had never seemed to expect it of him. He had been accustomed to treat +her with grave respect and deference, for she was the sort of person +who seems to require and to be able to exact deference. She was a very +busy woman, busy with extra-family concerns. Servants had carried on +the affairs of the household. Nurses, governesses, and such +kittle-cattle had given to Bonbright their sort of substitute for +mother care. Not that Mrs. Foote had neglected her son--as neglect is +understood by many women of her class. She had seen to it rigidly that +his nurses and tutors were efficient. She had seen to it that he was +instructed as she desired, and his father desired, him to be +instructed. She had not neglected him in a material sense, but on that +highest and sweetest sense of pouring out her affection on him in +childhood, of giving him her companionship, of making her love compel +his love--there she had been neglectful.... But she was not a +demonstrative woman. Even when he was a baby she could not cuddle him +and wonder at him and regard him as the most wonderful thing in +creation.... She had never held him to her breast as God and nature +meant mothers to hold their babies. A mercenary breast had nourished +him. + +So he grew up to admire her, perhaps; surely to stand in some awe of +her. She was his mother, and he felt vaguely that the relationship +demanded some affection from him. He had fancied that he was giving her +affection, but he was doing nothing of the sort.... His childish +troubles had been confided to servants. His babyish woes had been +comforted by servants. What genuine love he had been able to give had +been given to servants. She had not been the companion of his babyhood +as his father had failed to be the companion of his youth. ... So far +as the finer, the sweeter affairs of parenthood went, Bonbright had +been, and was, an orphan.... + +"Have you nothing to say?" his father demanded, and, when Bonbright +made no reply, continued: "Your mother and I have been unable to +understand your conduct. Even in our alarm we have been discussing your +action and your attitude. It is not one we expected from a son of +ours.... You have not filled our hopes and expectations. I, especially, +have been dissatisfied with you ever since you left college. You have +not behaved like a Foote.... You have made more trouble for me in these +few months than I made for my father in my life.... And yesterday--I +would be justified in taking extreme measures with you. Such an +outburst! You were disrespectful and impertinent. You were positively +REBELLIOUS. If I had not more important things to consider than my own +feelings you should have felt, more vigorously than you shall, my +displeasure. You dared to speak to me yesterday in a manner that would +warrant me in setting you wholly adrift until you came to your +senses.... But I shall not do that. Family considerations demand your +presence in our offices. You are to take my place and to carry on our +line.... This hasn't seemed to impress you. You have been childishly +selfish. You have thought only of yourself--of that thing you fancy is +your individuality. Rubbish! You're a Foote--and a Foote owes a duty to +himself and his family that should outweigh any personal desires.... I +don't understand you, my son. What more can you want than you have and +will have? Wealth, position, family? Yet for months you have been +sullen and restless-and then openly rebellious.... And worse, you have +been compromising yourself with a girl not of your class...." + +"I could not believe my ears," said Mrs. Foote, coldly. + +"However," said his father, "I shall overlook what has passed." Now +came the sop he had planned to throw to Bonbright. + +"You have been in the office long enough to learn something of the +business, so I shall give you work of greater interest and +responsibility.... You say, ridiculously enough, that you have been a +rubber stamp. Common sense should have told you you were competent to +carry no great responsibilities at first.... But you shall take over a +part of my burden now.... However, one thing must come first. Before we +go any farther, your mother and I must have your promise that you will +discontinue whatever relations you have with this boarding-house +keeper's daughter, this companion of anarchists and disturbers." + +"I have insisted upon THAT," said Mrs. Foote. "I will not tolerate such +an affair." + +"There is no AFFAIR," said Bonbright, finding his voice. His young eyes +began to glow angrily. "What right have you to suppose such a +thing--just because Miss Frazer happens to be a stenographer and +because her mother keeps a boarder! Father insulted her yesterday. That +caused the trouble. I couldn't let it pass, even from him. I can't let +it pass from you, mother." + +"Oh, undoubtedly she's worthy enough," said Mr. Foote, who had +exchanged a glance with his wife during Bonbright's outburst, as much +as to say, "There is a serious danger here." + +"Worthy enough!" said Bonbright, anger now burning with white heat. + +"But," said his father, "worthy or not worthy, we cannot have our son's +name linked in any way with a person of her class. It must stop, and +stop at once." + +"That you must understand distinctly," said Mrs. Foote. + +"Stop!" said Bonbright, hoarsely. "It sha'n't stop, now or ever. That's +what I came home to tell you.... I'm not a dumb beast, to be driven +where you want to drive me. I'm a human being. I have a right to make +my own friends and to live my own life.... I have a right to love where +I want to--and to marry the girl I love.... You tried to pick out a +wife for me.... Well, I've picked out my own. Whether you approve or +not doesn't change it. Nobody, nothing can change it.... I love Ruth +Frazer and I'm going to marry her. That's what I came home to tell you." + +"What?" said his father, in a tone of one who listens to blasphemy. + +Bonbright did not waver. He was strong enough now, strong in his anger +and in his love. "I am going to marry Ruth Frazer," he repeated. + +"Nonsense!" said his mother. + +"It is not nonsense, mother. I am a man. I have found the girl I love +and will always love. I intend to marry her. Where is there nonsense in +that?" + +"Do you fancy I shall permit such a thing? Do you imagine for an +instant that I shall permit you to give me a daughter-in-law out of a +cheap boarding house? Do you think I shall submit to an affront like +that?... Why, I should be the laughingstock of the city." + +"The city finds queer things to laugh at," said Bonbright. + +"My son--" began Mr. Foote; but his wife silenced him. She had taken +command of the family ship. From this moment in this matter Bonbright +Foote VI did not figure. This was her affair. It touched her in a vital +spot. It threatened her with ridicule; it threatened to affect that +most precious of her possessions--the deference of the social world. +She knew how to protect herself, and would attend to the matter without +assistance. + +"You will never see that girl again," she said, as though the saying of +it concluded the episode. + +Bonbright was silent. + +"You will promise me NOW that this disgraceful business is ended. +NOW.... I am waiting." + +"Mother," said Bonbright, "you have no right to ask such a thing. Even +if I didn't love Ruth, I have pledged my word to her..." + +Mrs. Foote uttered an exclamation indicative of her disgust. + +"Pledged your word!... You're a silly boy, and this girl has schemed to +catch you and has caught you.... You don't flatter yourself that she +cares for you beyond your money and your position.... Those are the +things she had her eye on. Those are what she is trading herself +for.... It's scandalous. What does your pledged word count for in a +case like this?... Your pledged word to a scheming, plotting, mercenary +little wretch!" + +"Mother," said Bonbright, in a strained, tense voice, "I don't want to +speak to you harshly. I don't want to say anything sharp or unkind to +you--but you mustn't repeat that.... You mustn't speak like that about +Ruth." + +"I shall speak about her as I choose..." + +"Georgia!..." said Mr. Foote, warningly. + +"If you please, Bonbright." She put him back in his place. "_I_ will +settle this matter with our son--NOW." + +"It is settled, mother," said Bonbright. + +"Suppose you should be insane enough to marry her," said Mrs. Foote. +"Do you suppose I should tolerate her? Do you suppose I should admit +her to this house? Do you suppose your friends--people of your own +class--would receive her--or you?" + +"Do you mean, mother," said Bonbright, his voice curiously quiet and +calm, "that you would not receive my wife here?" + +"Exactly that. And I should make it my business to see that she was +received nowhere else.... And what would become of you? Everyone would +drop you. Your wife could never take your position, so you would have +to descend to her level. Society would have none of you." + +"I fancy," said Bonbright, "that we could face even that--and live." + +"More than that. I know I am speaking for your father when I say it. If +you persist in this we shall wash our hands of you utterly. You shall +be as if you were dead.... Think a moment what that means. You will not +have a penny. We shall not give you one penny. You have never worked. +And you would find yourself out in the world with a wife to support and +no means of supporting her. How long do you suppose she would stay with +you?... The moment she found she couldn't get what she had schemed for, +you would see the last of her.... Think of all that." + +"I've thought of all that--except that Ruth would care for my money. +... Yesterday I left the office determined never to go into it again. I +made up my mind to look for a job--any job--that would give me a +living--and freedom from what Bonbright Foote, Incorporated, means to +me. I was ready to do that without Ruth.... But the family has some +claims to me. I could see that. So I came back. I was going to tell +father I would go ahead and do my best.... But not because I wanted to, +nor because I was afraid." + +"You see," his mother said, bitingly, "it lasted a whole day with you." + +"Mother!" + +Bonbright turned to his father. "I am going to marry Ruth. That cannot +be changed. Nothing can alter it.... I am ready to come back to the +office--and be Bonbright Foote VII... and you can't guess what that +means. But I'll do it--because it seems to be the thing I ought to +do.... I'll come back if--and only if--you and mother change your minds +about Ruth.... She will be my wife as much as mother is your wife, and +you must treat her so. She must have your respect. You must receive her +as you would receive me... as you would have been glad to receive Hilda +Lightener. If you refuse--I'm through with you. I mean it.... You have +demanded a promise of me. Now you must give me your promise--to act to +Ruth as you should act toward my wife.... Unless you do the office and +the family have seen the last of me." He did not speak with heat or in +excitement, but very gravely, very determinedly. His father saw the +determination, and wavered. + +"Georgia," he said, again. + +"No," said Mrs. Foote. + +"The Family--the business." said Mr. Foote, uncertainly. + +"I'd see the business ended and the Family extinct before I would +tolerate that girl.... If Bonbright marries her he does it knowing how +I feel and how I shall act. She shall never step a foot in this house +while I live--nor afterward, if I can prevent it. Nor shall Bonbright." + +"Is that final, mother?... Are you sure it is your final decision?" + +"Absolutely," she said, her voice cold as steel. + +"Very well," said Bonbright, and, turning, he walked steadily toward +the door. + +"Where are you going?" his father said, taking an anxious step after +his son. + +"I don't know," said Bonbright. "But I'm not coming back." + +He passed through the door and disappeared, but his mother did not call +after him, did not relent and follow her only son to bring him back. +Her face was set, her lips a thin, white line. + +"Let him go," she said. "He'll come back when he's eaten enough husks." + +"He's GOT to come back.... We've got to stop this marriage. He's our +only son, Georgia--he's necessary to the Family. HIS son is necessary." + +"And hers?" she asked, with bitter irony. + +"Better hers than none," said Mr. Foote. + +"You would give in.... Oh, I know you would. You haven't a thought +outside of Family. I wasn't born in your family, remember. I married +into it. I have my own rights in this matter, and, Family or no Family, +Bonbright, that girl shall never be received where I am received.... +NEVER." + +Mr. Foote walked to the window and looked out. He saw his son's tall +form pass down the walk and out into the street--going he did not know +where; to return he did not know when. He felt an ache in his heart +such as he had never felt before. He felt a yearning after his son such +as he had never known. In that moment of loss he perceived that +Bonbright was something more to him than Bonbright Foote VII--he was +flesh of his flesh and blood of his blood. The stifled, cramped, almost +eliminated human father that remained in him cried out after his son.... + + + + +CHAPTER XVIII + + +As Bonbright walked away from his father's house he came into +possession for the first time of the word RESPONSIBILITY. It was +defined for him as no dictionary could define it. Every young man meets +a day when responsibility becomes to him something more than a +combination of letters, and when it comes he can never be the same +again. It marks definitely the arrival of manhood, the dropping behind +of youth. He can never look upon life through the same eyes. Forever, +now, he must peer round and beyond each pleasure to see what burden it +entails and conceals. He must weigh each act with reference to the +RESPONSIBILITY that rests upon him. Hitherto he had been swimming in +life's pleasant, safe, shaded pools; now he finds himself struggling in +the great river, tossed by currents, twirled by eddies, and with no +bottom upon which to rest his feet. Forever now it will be swim--or +sink.... + +To-morrow Bonbright was to undertake the responsibilities of family +headship and provider; to-night he had sundered himself from his means +of support. He was jobless. He belonged to the unemployed.... In the +office he had heard without concern of this man or that man being +discharged. Now he knew how those men felt and what they faced. + +Realization of his condition threw him into panic. In his panic he +allowed his feet to carry him to the man whose help had come readily +and willingly in another moment of need--to Malcolm Lightener. + +The hour was still early. Lights shone in the Lightener home and +Bonbright approached the door. Mr. Lightener was in and would see him +in the office. It was characteristic of Lightener that the room in the +house which was peculiarly his own was called by him his office, not +his den, not the library.... There were two interests in Lightener's +life--his family and his business, and he stirred them together in a +quaintly granite sort of way. + +For the second time that evening Bonbright stood hesitating in a +doorway. + +"Well, young fellow?" said Lightener. Then seeing the boy's hesitation: +"Come in. Come in. What's happened NOW?" + +"Mr. Lightener," said Bonbright, "I want a job. I've got to have a job." + +"Um!... Job! What's the matter with the job you've got?" + +"I haven't any job.... I--I'm through with Bonbright Foote, +Incorporated--forever." + +"That's a darn long time. Sit down. Waiting for it to pass will be +easier that way.... Now spit it out." He was studying the boy with his +bright gray eyes, wondering if this was the row he had been expecting. +He more than half hoped, as he would have expressed it, "that the kid +had got his back up." Bonbright's face, his bearing, made Lightener +believe his back WAS up. + +"I've got to have a job--" + +"You said that once. Why?" + +"I'm going to be married to-morrow--" + +"What?" + +"I'm going to be married to-morrow--and I've got to support my +wife--decently..." + +"It's that little Frazer girl who was crying all over my office +to-day," said Lightener, deducing the main fact with characteristic +shrewdness. "And your father wouldn't have it--and threw you out...or +did the thing that stands to him for throwing out?" + +"I got out. I had gotten out before. Yesterday morning.... Somebody +told him I'd been going to see Ruth--and he was nasty about it. Called +it a liaison....I--I BURNED UP and left the office. I haven't been +back." + +"That accounts for his calling me up--looking for you. You had him +worried." + +"Then I got to thinking," said Bonbright, ignoring the interruption. "I +was going back because it seemed as if I HAD to go back. You +understand? As if there was something that compelled me to stick by the +Family...." + +"How long have you been going to marry this girl?" + +"She said she would marry me to-night." + +"Engaged to-night--and you're going to marry to-morrow?" + +"Yes....And I went home to tell father. Mother was there--" + +Lightener sucked in his breath. He could appreciate what Bonbright's +mother's presence would contribute to the episode. + +"--and she was worse than father. She--it was ROTTEN, Mr. +Lightener--ROTTEN. She said she'd never receive Ruth as her daughter, +and that she'd see she was never received by anybody else, and she--she +FORCED father to back her up....There wasn't anything for me to do but +get out....I didn't begin to wonder how I was going to support Ruth +till it was all over with." + +"That's the time folks generally begin to wonder." + +"So I came right here--because you CAN give me a job if you will--and +I've got to have one to-night. I've got to know to-night how I'm going +to get food and a place to live for Ruth." + +"Um!...We'll come to that." He got up and went to the door. From thence +he shouted--the word is used advisedly--for his wife and daughter. +"Mamma.... Hilda. Come here right off." He had decided that Bonbright's +affairs stood in need of woman's counsel. + +Mrs. Lightener appeared first. "Why, Bonbright!" she exclaimed. + +"Where's Hilda?" asked Lightener. "Need her, too." + +"She's coming, dear," said Mrs. Lightener. + +There are people whose mere presence brings relief. Perhaps it is +because their sympathy is sure; perhaps it is because their souls were +given them, strong and simple, for other souls to lean upon. Mrs. +Lightener was one of these. Before she knew why Bonbright was there, +before she uttered a word, he felt a sense of deliverance. His +necessities seemed less gnawing; there was a slackening of taut +nerves.... + +Then Hilda appeared. "Evening, Bonbright," she said, and gave him her +hand. + +"Let's get down to business," Lightener said. "Tell 'em, Bonbright." + +"I'm going to marry Ruth Frazer to-morrow noon," he said, boldly. + +Mrs. Lightener was amazed, then disappointed, for she had come to hope +strongly that she would have this boy for a son. She liked him, and +trusted in his possibilities. She believed he would be a husband to +whom she could give her daughter with an easy heart.... Hilda felt a +momentary shock of surprise, but it passed quickly. Like her father, +she was sudden to pounce upon the concealed meaning of patent +facts--and she had spent the morning with Ruth. She was first to speak. + +"So you've decided to throw me over," she said, with a smile.... "I +don't blame you, Bonbright. She's a dear." + +"But who is she?" asked Mrs. Lightener. "I seem to have heard the name, +but I don't remember meeting her." + +"She was my secretary," said Bonbright. "She's a stenographer in Mr. +Lightener's office now." + +"Oh," said Mrs. Lightener, and there was dubiety in her voice. + +"Exactly," said Lightener. + +"MOTHER!" exclaimed Hilda. "Weren't you a stenographer in the office +where dad worked?" + +"It isn't THAT," said Mrs. Lightener. "I wasn't thinking about the girl +nor about Bonbright. I was thinking of his mother." + +"That's why he's here," said Lightener. "The Family touched off a mess +of fireworks. Mrs. Foote refuses to have anything to do with the girl +if Bonbright marries her. Promised to see nobody else did, too. Isn't +that it, Bonbright?" + +"Yes." + +"I don't like to mix in a family row..." + +"You've GOT to, dad," said Hilda. "Of course Bonbright couldn't stand +THAT." They understood her to mean by THAT the Foote family's position +in the matter. "He couldn't stand it.... I expect you and mother are +disappointed. You wanted me to marry Bonbright, myself..." + +"HILDA!" Mrs. Lightener's voice was shocked. + +"Oh, Bonbright and I talked it over the night we met. Don't be a bit +alarmed. I'm not being especially forward.... We've got to do +something. What does Bon want us to do?" + +"He wants me to give him a job." + +She turned to Bonbright. "They turned you out?" + +"I turned myself out," he said. + +She nodded understandingly. "You WOULD," she said, approvingly. "What +kind of a job can you give him, dad?" + +"H'm. THAT'S settled, is it? What do you think, mother?" + +"Why, dear, he's got to support his wife," said Mrs. Lightener. + +Malcolm Lightener permitted the granite of his face to relax in a +rueful smile. "I called you folks in to get your advice--not to have +you run the whole shebang." + +"We're going to run it, dad....Don't you like Ruth Frazer?" + +"I like her. She seems to be a nice, intelligent girl....Cries all over +a man's office...." + +"I like her, too, and so will mother when she meets Ruth. I like her a +eap, Bon; she's a DEAR. Now that the job for you is settled--" + +"Eh?" said Lightener. + +Hilda smiled at him and amended herself. "Now that a very GOOD job for +you is settled, I'll tell you what I'm going to do. First thing, I'm +invited to the wedding, and so is mother, and so are some other folks. +I'll see to that. It isn't going to be any justice-of-the-peace +wedding, either. It's going to be in the church, and there'll be enough +folks there to make it read right in the paper." + +"I'm afraid Ruth wouldn't care for that," said Bonbright, dubiously. "I +know she wouldn't." + +"She's got to start off RIGHT as your wife, Bon. The start's +everything. You want your friends to know her and receive her, don't +you? Of course you do. I'll round up the folks and have them there. It +will be sort of romantic and interesting, and a bully send off for Ruth +if it's done right. It 'll make her quite the rage. You'll see. +...That's what I'm going to do--in spite of your mother. Your wife will +be received and invited every place that _I_ am....Maybe your mother +can run the dowagers, but I'll bet a penny I can handle the young +folks." In that moment she looked exceedingly like her father. + +"HILDA!" her mother exclaimed again. "You must consider Mrs. Foote. We +don't want to have any unpleasantness over this...." + +"We've got it already," said Hilda, "and the only way is to--go the +limit." + +Lightener slammed the desk with his fist. "Right!" he said. "If we +meddle at all we've got to go the whole distance. Either stay out +altogether or go in over our heads.... But how about this girl, Hilda, +does she belong?" + +"She's decently educated. She has sweet manners. She's brighter than +two-thirds of us. She'll fit in all right. Don't you worry about her." + +"Young man," growled Lightener, "why couldn't you have fallen in love +with my daughter and saved all this fracas?" + +Bonbright was embarrassed, but Hilda came to his rescue. "Because I +didn't want him to," she said. "You wouldn't have MADE me marry him, +would you?" + +"PROBABLY not," said her father, with a rueful grin. + +"I'm going to take charge of her," said Hilda. "We'll show your mother, +Bon." + +"You're--mighty good," said Bonbright, chokingly. + +"I'm going to see her the first thing in the morning. You see. I'll fix +things with her. When I explain everything to her she'll do just as I +want her to." + +Mrs. Lightener was troubled; tears stood in her eyes. "I'm so sorry, +Bonbright. I--I suppose a boy has the right to pick out his own wife, +but it's too bad you couldn't have pleased your mother.... Her heart +must ache to-night." + +"I'm afraid," said Bonbright, slowly, "that it doesn't ache the way you +mean, Mrs. Lightener." + +"It's a hard place to put us. We're meddling. It doesn't seem the right +thing to come between mother and son." + +"You're not," said Hilda. "Mrs. Foote's snobbishness came between them." + +"HILDA!" + +"That's just what it is. Ruth is just as nice as she is or anybody +else. She ought to be glad she's getting a daughter like Ruth. You'd +be....And we can't sit by and see Bon and his wife STARVE, can we? We +can't fold our hands and let Mrs. Foote make Ruth unhappy. It's cruel, +that's what it is, and nothing else. When Ruth is Bon's wife she has +the right to be treated as his wife should be. Mrs. Foote has no +business trying to humiliate her and Bon--and she sha'n't." + +"I suppose you're right, dear. I KNOW you're right.... But I'm thinking +how I'd feel if it were YOU." + +"You'd never feel like Mrs. Foote, mother. If I made up my mind to +marry a man out of dad's office--no matter what his job was, if he was +all right himself--you wouldn't throw me out of the house and set out +to make him and me as unhappy as you could. You aren't a snob." + +"No," said Mrs. Lightener, "I shouldn't." + +Malcolm Lightener, interrupted. "Now you've both had your say," he +said, "and you seem to have decided the thing between you. I felt kind +of that way, myself, but I wanted to know about you folks. What you say +GOES....Now clear out; I want to talk business to Bonbright." + +Hilda gave Bonbright her hand again. "I'm glad," she said, simply. "I +know you'll be very happy." + +"And I'll do what I can, boy," said Mrs. Lightener + +Bonbright was moved as he had never been moved before by kindliness and +womanliness. "Thank you.... Thank you," he said, tremulously. "I--you +don't know what this means to me. You've--you've put a new face on the +whole future...." + +"Clear out," said Malcolm Lightener. + +Hilda made a little grimace at him in token that she flouted his +authority, and she and her mother said good night and retired from the +room. + +"Now," said Malcolm Lightener. + +Bonbright waited. + +"I'm going to give you a job, but it won't be any private-office job. I +don't know what you're good for. Probably not much. Don't get it into +your head I'm handing a snap to you, because I'm not. If you're not +worth what I pay you you'll get fired. Understand?" + +"Yes, sir." + +"If you stick you'll learn something. Not the kind of rubbish you've +been sopping up in your own place. I run a business, not a museum of +antiquity. You'll have to work. Think you can?" + +"I've wanted to. They wouldn't let me." + +"Um!...You'll get dirt on your hands....Most likely you'll be running +Bonbright Foote, Incorporated, one of these days. This thing won't +last. Your father'll have to come around....I only hope he lets you +stay with me long enough to teach you some business sense and something +about running a plant. I'll pay you enough to support you and this girl +of yours--but you'll earn it. When you earn more you'll get it...Sounds +reasonable." + +"I--I can't thank you enough." + +"Report for work day after to-morrow, then. You're a man out of a job. +You can't afford honeymoons. I'll let you have the day off to-morrow, +but next morning you be in my office when the whistle blows. I always +am." + +"Yes, sir." + +"Where are you going to live? Got any money?" + +"I don't know where we shall live. Maybe we'd better find a place to +board for a while. I've got a hundred dollars or so." + +"Board!...Huh! Nobody's got any business boarding when they're married. +Wife has too much time on her hands. Nothing to do. Especially at the +start of things your wife'll need to be busy. Keep her from getting +notions....I'll bet the percentage of divorces among folks that board +is double that it is among folks that keep house. Bound to be....You +get you a decent flat and furnish it. Right off. After you get married +you and your wife pick out the furniture. That's what I'm giving you +the day off to-morrow for. You can furnish a little flat--the kind you +can afford, for five hundred dollars.... You're not a millionaire now. +You're a young fellow with a fair job and a moderate salary that you've +got to live on. ...Better let your wife handle it. She's used to it and +you're not. She'll make one dollar go as far as you would make ten." + +"Yes, sir." + +Lightener moved awkwardly and showed signs of embarrassment. "And +listen here," he said, gruffly, "a young girl's a pretty sweet and +delicate piece of business. They're mighty easy to hurt, and the hurt +lasts a long time....You want to be married a long time, I expect, and +you want your wife to--er--love you right on along. Well, be darn +careful, young fellow. Start the thing right. More marriages are +smashed in the first few days than in the next twenty years....You be +damn gentle and considerate of that little girl." + +"I--I hope I shall, Mr. Lightener." + +"You'd better be....Where you going to-night?" + +"To the club. I have some things there. I've always kept enough clothes +there to get along on." + +"Your club days are over for some time. Married man has no business +with a club till he's forty....Evenings, anyhow. Stay at home with your +wife. How'd you like to have her running out to some darn thing three +or four nights a week?...Go on, now. I'll tell Hilda where you are. +Probably she'll want to call you up in the morning....Good night." + +"Good night...and thank you." + +"Huh!" said Malcolm Lightener, and without paying the slightest bit of +attention to whether Bonbright stayed or went away, he took up the +papers on his desk and lost himself in the figures that covered them. +Bonbright went out quietly, thankfully, his heart glad with its own +song....The future was settled; safe. He had nothing to fear. And +to-morrow he was going to enter into a land of great happiness. He felt +he was entering a land of fulfillment. That is the way with the very +young. They enter upon marriage feeling it is a sort of haven of +perpetual bliss, that it marks the end of unhappiness, of difficulties, +of loneliness, of griefs...when, in reality, it is but the beginning of +life with all the diverse elements of joy and grief and anxiety and +comfort and peace and discord that life is capable of holding.... + + + + +CHAPTER XIX + + +Hilda Lightener had found Ruth strangely quiet, with a manner which was +not indifference to her imminent marriage, but which seemed more like +numbness. + +"You act as if you were going to be hanged instead of married," Hilda +told her, and found no smile answering her own. + +Ruth was docile. She offered no objection to any suggestion offered by +Hilda, accepted every plan without demurring. Hilda could not +understand her, and was troubled. Wholly lacking was the girlish +excitement to be expected. "Whatever you want me to do I will do, only +get it over with," seemed to be Ruth's attitude. She seemed to be +holding herself in, communing with herself. A dozen times Hilda had to +repeat a question or a statement which Ruth had not heard, though her +eyes were on Hilda's and she seemed to be giving her attention. + +She was saying to herself: "I must go through with it.... I can't draw +back.... What I am doing is RIGHT--RIGHT." + +She obeyed Hilda, not so much through pliancy as through listlessness, +and presently Hilda was going ahead with matters and acting as a sort +of specially appointed general manager of the marriage. She directed +Ruth what to wear, saw it was put on, almost bundled Ruth and her +mother into the carriage, and convoyed them to the church, where +Bonbright awaited them. She could not prevent a feeling of +exasperation, especially toward Mrs. Frazer, who had moved from chair +to chair, uttering words of self-pity, and pronouncing a constant +jeremiad.... Such preliminaries to a wedding she had never expected to +witness, and she witnessed them with awakened foreboding. + +A dozen or so young folks and Malcolm Lightener and his wife witnessed +the brief ceremony. Until Ruth's appearance there had been the usual +chattering and gayety, but even the giddiest of the youngsters was +restrained and subdued by her white, tense face, and her big, unseeing +eyes. + +"I don't like it," Lightener whispered to his wife. + +"Poor child!... Poor child!" she whispered back, not taking her eyes +from Ruth's face. + +After the rector pronounced the final words of the ceremony Ruth stood +motionless. Then she turned slowly toward Bonbright, swaying a trifle +as if her knees were threatening to fail her, and said in a half +whisper, audible to those about: "It's over?... It's all over?" + +"Yes, dear." + +"It can't be undone," she said, not to her husband, but to herself. "We +are--married." + +Hilda, fearing some inauspicious act or word, bustled forward her bevy +of young folks to offer their babel of congratulations. As she +presented them one by one, Ruth mustered a wan smile, let them take her +cold, limp hand. But her mind was not on them. All the while she was +thinking: "This is my HUSBAND.... I belong to this man.... I am his +WIFE." Once in a while she would glance at Bonbright; he seemed more a +stranger to her than he had done the first time her eyes had ever +rested on him--a stranger endowed with odious potentialities. ... + +Mrs. Lightener took Ruth into her arms and whispered, "He's a dear, +good boy...." There was comfort in Mrs. Lightener's arms, but scant +comfort in her words, yet they would remain with Ruth and she would +find comfort in them later. Now she heard Malcolm Lightener speaking to +her husband. "You be good to that little girl, young man," he said. "Be +mighty patient and gentle with her." She waited for Bonbright's reply. +"I love her," she heard Bonbright say in a low voice. It was a good +answer, a reassuring answer, but it stabbed Ruth with a new pang, for +she had traded on that love; she was a cheat. Bonbright was giving her +his love in exchange for emptiness. Somehow she could not think of the +Cause now, for this was too intimate, too individual, too personal.... + +Presently Bonbright and Ruth were being driven to their hotel. The +thought of wedding breakfast or of festivities of any sort had been +repugnant to Ruth, and Hilda had not insisted. They were alone. Ruth +lay back against the soft upholstery of Malcolm Lightener's limousine, +colorless, eyes closed. Bonbright watched her face hungrily, +scrutinizing it for some sign of happiness, for some vestige of feeling +that reciprocated his own. He saw nothing but pallor, weariness. + +"Dear," he whispered, and touched her hand almost timorously. Her hand +trembled to his touch, and involuntarily she drew away from him. Her +eyes opened, and in them his own eager eyes read FEAR.... He was +startled, hurt. Being only a boy, with a boy's understanding and a +boy's pride, he was piqued, and himself drew back. This was not what he +had expected, not what the romances he had read had led him to believe +would take place. In stories the bride was timid, yet eager; loving, +yielding, happy. She clung to her husband, her heart beating against +his heart, whispering her adoration and demanding whispered adoration +from him.... Here all of this was lacking, and something which crouched +at the opposite pole of human emotion was present--FEAR. + +"You must be patient and gentle with her," Malcolm Lightener had said +with understanding, and Bonbright was wise enough to know that there +spoke experience; probably there spoke truth, not romance, as it is set +down on the printed page. Even if Ruth's attitude were unusual, so the +circumstances were unusual. It was no ordinary marriage preceded by an +ordinary, joyous courtship. In this moment Bonbright took thought, and +it was given him to understand that now, as at no other moment in his +life with Ruth, was the time to exercise patience and gentleness. + +"Ruth," he said, taking her hand and holding it with both his own, "you +mustn't be afraid of ME.... You are afraid. You're my wife," he said, +boyishly. "It's my job to make you happy--the most important job I've +got--and to look after you and to keep away from you everything that +might--make you afraid." He lifted her fingers to his lips; they were +cold. "I want to take you in my arms and hold you... but not until you +want me to. I can wait.... I can do ANYTHING that you want me to do. +Both of us have just gone through unpleasant things--and they've tired +and worried you.... I wish I might comfort you, dear...." His voice was +low and yearning. + +She let her hand remain in his, and with eyes from which the terror was +fading she looked into his eyes to find them clear, honest, filled with +love and care for her. They were good eyes, such as any bride might +rejoice to find looking upon her from her husband's face. + +"You're--so good," she whispered. Then: "I'm tired, Bonbright, so +tired--and--Oh, you don't understand, you CAN'T understand.... I'll be +different presently--I know I shall. Don't be angry..." + +"Angry!" + +"I'll be a good wife to you, Bonbright," she said, tremulously, a bit +wildly. "I--You sha'n't be disappointed in me.... I'll not cheat. ... +But wait--WAIT. Let me rest and think. It's all been so quick." + +"You asked that," he said, hurt and puzzled. + +"Yes.... It had to be--and now I'm your wife... and I feel as if I +didn't know you--as if you were a stranger. Don't you understand?... +It's because I'm so helpless now--just as if you owned me and could do +what you wanted to with me... and it makes me afraid...." + +"I--I don't understand very well," he said, slowly. "Maybe it's because +I'm a man--but it doesn't seem as if it ought to be that way." He +stopped and regarded her a moment, then he said, "Ruth, you've never +told me you loved me." + +She sensed the sudden fear in his voice and saw the question that had +to be answered, but she could not answer it. To-day she could not bring +herself to the lie--neither to the spoken lie nor the more difficult +lying action. "Not now," she said, hysterically. "Not to-day.... +Wait.... I've married you. I've given myself to you.... Isn't that +enough for now?... Give me time." + +It was not resentment he felt, not doubt of her. Her pitiful face, her +cold little hands, the fear that lurked in her eyes, demanded his +sympathy and forbearance, and, boy though he was, with all a boy's +inexperience, he was man enough to give them, intuitive enough to +understand something of the part he must play until she could adjust +herself to her new condition. + +He pressed her hand--and released it. "I sha'n't bother you," he said, +"until you want me.... But it isn't because I don't want you--don't +want to hold you--to LOVE you... and to have you love me.... It will be +all right, dear. You needn't be afraid of me...." + +The car was stopping before the hotel. Now the doorman opened the door +and Bonbright helped his bride to alight. She tottered as her feet +touched the sidewalk, and he took her arm to support her as he might +have helped an invalid. The elevator carried them up to the floor on +which were the rooms that had been prepared for them, and they stopped +before the door while he inserted the key and turned the lock for their +admission. On the threshold she halted, swept by a wave of terror, but, +clenching her hands and pressing shut her eyes, she stepped within. The +door closed behind them--closed out her girlhood, closed out her +independence, shut away from her forever that ownership of herself +which had been so precious, yet so unrecognized and unconsidered. It +seemed to her that the closing of that door--even more than the +ceremony of marriage--was symbolical of turning over to this young man +the title deeds of her soul and body. ... + +Bonbright was helping her to rid herself of her wraps, leading her to a +sofa. + +"Lie down," he said, gently. "You're tired and bothered. Just lie down +and rest." + +"Are we going away?" she asked, presently. "Have I got to get ready?" + +He had promised her they would go away--and had not seen her since that +moment to tell her what had happened. Hilda would not let him go to her +that morning, so she was in ignorance of the change in his condition, +of his break with his family, and of the fact that he was nothing but a +boy with a job, dependent upon his wages. Until this moment he had not +thought how it might affect her; of her disappointment, of the fact +that she might have expected and looked forward to the position he +could give her as the wife of the heir apparent to the Foote +dynasty.... It embarrassed him, shamed him as a boy might be shamed who +was unable to buy for his girl a trinket she coveted at some country +fair. Now she must be told, and she was in no condition to bear +disappointments. + +"I promised you we should go away," he said, haltingly, "but--but I +can't manage it. Things have happened....I've got to be at work in the +morning. Maybe I should have told you. Maybe I should have come last +night after it happened--" + +She opened her eyes, and at the expression of his face she sat up, +alarmed. It told her that no ordinary, small, casual mishap had +befallen, but something vital, something which might affect him--and +her tremendously. + +"What is it?" she asked. "What has happened?" + +"I went home last night," he said, slowly. "After--you promised to +marry me--I went home to tell father....Mother was there. There was a +row--but mother was worse than father. She was--rather bad." + +"Rather bad--how, Bonbright?" + +"She--didn't like my marrying you. Of course we knew neither of them +would like it, but I didn't think anything like this would happen. +...You know father and I had a fuss the other day, and I left the +office. I had thought things over, and was going back. It seemed as if +I ought to go back--as if that was the thing to do.... Well, mother +said things that made it impossible. I'm through with them for good. +The Family and the Ancestors can go hang." His voice grew angry as +recollection of that scene presented itself. "Mother said I shouldn't +marry you..." + +"You--you don't mean you're not going to--to have anything to do with +Bonbright Foote, Incorporated--and all those thousands of men?" + +"That's it....I couldn't do anything else. I had to break with them. +Father was bad, but it was mother....She said she would never receive +you or recognize you as my wife--and that sort of thing--and I left. +I'm never going back.... On your account I'm sorry. I can't give you so +much, and I can't do the things for you that I could.... We'll be quite +poor, but I've got a job. Mr. Lightener gave me a job, and I've got to +go to work in the morning. That's why we can't go away...." + +"You mean," she said, dully, trying to sense this calamity, "that you +will never go back? Never own--that--business?" + +"It was a choice of giving you up or that. Mother made that clear. If I +married you I should never have anything from them...." + +She did not see the happiness that might lie for her in the possession +of a husband whose love was so great that he could give up the kingdoms +of the earth for her. She could not see the strength of the boy, his +loyalty, his honor. All she saw was the crushing of her plan before it +began to germinate.... She had given herself for the Cause. She was +here, this young man's wife, alone in these rooms with him, because she +loved the Cause and had martyred herself for it.... Her influence was +to ameliorate the conditions of thousands of the Bonbright Foote +laborers; she was to usher in a new era for them--and for that she had +offered herself up.... And now, having bound herself forever to this +boy that she did not love--loving another man--the possibility of +achievement was snatched from her and her immolation made futile. It +was as if she plunged into a rapids, offering her life to save a child +that struggled there, to find, when she reached the little body, and it +was too late to save herself, that it was a wax figure from some shop +window.... But her position was worse than that; what she faced was +worse than swift, merciful death.... It was years of a life of horrid +possibilities, tied to a man whose chattel she was. She stood up and +clutched his arm. + +"You're joking," she said, in a tense, metallic voice. + +"I'm sorry, dear. It's very true." + +"Oh!" Her voice was a wail. "It can't be--it can't be. I couldn't bear +that--not THAT...." + +Bonbright seized her by the arms and peered into her face. "Ruth," he +said, "what do you mean? Was THAT why you married me? You're not like +those women I've heard about who married--for MONEY." + +"No....No..." she cried. "Not that--Oh, don't believe that." + +She spoke the truth, and Bonbright could not doubt it. Truth was in her +words, her tone, her face....It was a thing she was incapable of, and +he knew it. She could not be mean, contemptible. He drew her to him and +kissed her, and she did not resent it. A surge of happiness filled +him....She had been dismayed because of him. There was no other +interpretation of her words and actions. She was conscience stricken +because she had brought misfortune upon him. + +He laughed boyishly. "Don't worry about me. I don't care," he said, +gayly, "so long as I have you. You're worth it a dozen times....I'm +glad, Ruth--I'm glad I had to pay for you dearly. Somehow it makes me +seem worthier--you understand what I mean...." + +She understood--understood, too, the interpretation he had put on her +words. It brought a flush to her white cheeks....She disengaged herself +gently. + +"If we're not going away," she said, "I can lie down--and rest." + +"Of course." + +"Alone? In the next room?" + +He opened the door for her. "I'll be as quiet as a mouse," he said. +"Have a good sleep. I'll sit here and read." She read in his eyes a +plea for affection, for another kiss, as she left him, but she had not +the strength to give it. She went into the adjoining room, and shut the +door after her. Then she stood there silently regarding the +door--regarding the KEY.... If she locked it she was safe from him. He +could not come in.... She could lock him out. + +Her hand went to the key, but came away without turning it. No.... She +had no right. She had made her bargain and must abide by it. Bonbright +was her husband and she was his wife, and as such she must not turn +locks upon him.... Marriage gave him the right of free access. + +Dressed as she was, in the suit that had been her wedding dress, she +threw herself upon the bed and gave up her soul to torment. She had +taken her all and paid it for a thing desirable in her eyes--and her +all had bought her nothing. She had wrenched her love from the man to +whom she had given it, and all her life must counterfeit love for a man +whom she did not love--and in return she would receive--nothing. She +had seen herself a Joan of Arc. That dream was blown away in a +breath.... But the bargain was made. That she did not receive what she +had thought to receive was no fault of Bonbright's--and she must endure +what was to be endured. She must be honest with him--as honesty showed +its face to her. To be honest with him meant to her to deceive him +daily, hourly, to make her life a lie. He was cheated enough as matters +stood--and he did not deserve to be cheated. He was good, gentle, a +man. She appreciated him--but she did not love him. ... And +appreciating him, aware of his strength and his goodness to her, she +could not keep her eyes off the door. She lay there eying it with ever +increasing apprehension--yet she did not, would not, could not, rise to +turn the key.... + + + + +CHAPTER XX + + +In every formation of a fresh family group there must be readjustments +of habit and of thought. Two people who fancy they know each other +intimately discover that they are in reality utter strangers. They +start a new acquaintanceship at the moment of marriage, and the wonder +of it is that so many millions of them manage the thing with success. +It is true that a man and woman who join their hands and their fortunes +because of a deep-seated, genuine, calm affection have a greater chance +of lasting happiness than those who unite because of the spur of +sudden, flaring passion. There are those who contend that friendship +and mutual confidence are a firmer foundation for marriage than the +emotion that we call love. Thousands of men and women have married +because prudence told them a certain other individual would make a +trustworthy, efficient, comfortable husband or wife, and as days and +weeks and years passed this respect and trust and regard has blossomed +into a beautifully permanent flower of love....Doubtless happiness has +resulted from marriages which resulted from motives purely mercenary, +for human beings are blessed by Heaven with a quality called +adaptability. Of no marriage can one predict happiness surely. At the +altar the best one can do is to hope for the best....But what can be +said of a marriage brought about by the causes and motives that led +Bonbright Foote to Ruth Frazer and Ruth Frazer to Bonbright Foote? + +Of the two, Bonbright's reasons most nearly approached the normal, and +therefore the safe; Ruth had been urged by a motive, lofty perhaps, +visionary, but supremely abnormal. Therefore the adjustments to be +made, the problems to be mastered, the difficulties in their road to a +comfortable, reasonably happy future, were multiplied many times. +Instead of being probable, the success of their little social entity +became merely possible, doubtfully possible. + +Ruth, being a woman, understood something of this. Bonbright, being a +boy, and a singularly inexperienced boy, understood it not at all, and +as he sat alone, a closed door between him and his wife, he wearied his +brain upon the puzzle of it. He came to the conclusion that the present +difficult situation was the natural thing. It was natural for the bride +to be timid, frightened, reluctant, for she was entering a dark forest +of strange, new experiences. He understood that his own case might be +exaggerated because their marriage had been preceded by no ordinary +courtship, with the opportunity which a courtship gives to begin the +inevitable readjustments, and to become accustomed to intimacy of +thought and act. + +The ordinary man has little intuition, but a world of good intentions. +Men blunder woefully in their relations with women, not because of +innate boorishness in the sex, not because of willful brashness, but +because of lack of understanding. They mean well, but their performance +is deplorable.... In that moment Bonbright's most valuable possession +was a certain intuition, a fineness, a decency, a reserve, a natural +modesty. As he sat there alone he reached a conclusion which was, +probably, the most profoundly wise conclusion he was to arrive at in +his life. It came not so much from taking thought, as by blessed +inspiration. This conclusion was that he must court Ruth Frazer as a +sweetheart, not approach her as a husband.... + +It was a course that would require infinite patience, forbearance, +fineness. In his love for Ruth he felt himself capable of it; felt that +it would bring its reward. + +So he sat and waited. He did not approach the door which she had +watched with apprehensive eyes until weariness had closed them in +sleep.... + +The luncheon hour had passed when he heard Ruth moving about within. + +"Hungry?" he called to her, boyishly. His voice reassured her. It was +comradely. There was nothing in it that menaced her security....The +sleep and the rest had bettered her. She was less tense, more calmly +resigned to events. She had marshaled her will; had set it to bear her +up and to compel her to carry on bravely and without hysteria the part +of a wife. + +"I am hungry," she said, and presently she appeared in the door, stood +there a moment, and then walked across the room to Bonbright. "Thank +you," she said, simply, and he understood. + +"You don't mind being poor for a while?" he asked. + +"I've always been poor," she said, with something that approached her +old smile. + +"Because," he said, "we are poor. I am going to earn about thirty +dollars a week. So, you see, we can't afford to live here. We've got to +find a little house or flat...." + +"Let's begin," she cried. It was not the delight of a woman at the +thought of hunting for her first home, but the idea of having something +to do, of escaping from these rooms. "Let's go right out to look." + +"First," he said, with pretended severity, "we eat." + +So they went down to the dining room, and after they had eaten they +inaugurated their house hunting. Perhaps Providence intervened at this +difficult moment to give them occupation. If so, Providence acted with +amazing wisdom and kindness. + +Ruth found an interest in the search. She forgot. Her mind was taken +from morbid breedings as they climbed stairs and explored rooms and +questioned agents. Bonbright was very happy--happier because he was +openly and without shame adapting his circumstances to his purse.... +They found a tiny flat, to be had for a fourth of their income. Ruth +said that was the highest proportion of their earnings it was safe to +pay for rent, and Bonbright marveled at her wisdom in such matters. ... + +Then there were the furnishings to select. Bonbright left the selection +and the chaffering wholly to Ruth--and she enjoyed it. The business +rested, refreshed, stimulated her. It pushed her fears into the dim +background and brought again to the light of day her old self that +Bonbright loved. More than once she turned the light of her famous grin +upon him or upon some thrice lucky salesman. + +But the end was reached at last; everything was done that could be +done, and there was nothing to do but to return to the hotel. Ruth did +her best to keep up her spirits, but by every block that they +approached the hotel, by so much her lightness vanished, by so much her +apprehension, her heartache, the black disappointment of the failure of +her great plan, returned. + +Bonbright saw the change and it grieved him--it strengthened the +determination he had made. When they reached their rooms he drew her +over to the sofa. + +"Let's sit here together, dear," he said. "We haven't had a decent +talk, and there are a heap of things to talk about, aren't there?" + +She forced herself to sit down close to him, and waited icily, steeling +herself to yield to his demonstrations of affection if he offered them, +but he did not. + +"I've an idea," he said. "I--I hope you'll like it. It'll be sort +of--fun. Sort of a game, you know.... While I sat here this afternoon I +was thinking about us--and--how I want to make you happy....We were +married--suddenly. Most folks play along and get to know each other, +and grow to love each other gradually, I guess....I didn't grow to love +you gradually. I don't know how it was with you. But, anyhow, we missed +our courtship. We started right in by being husband and wife. Of course +I'm glad of that....Don't think I'm not. I wanted you--right away. +But--but my idea was that maybe we could--have our courtship now--after +we are married....Mayn't we?" + +"What--what do you mean?" she asked, fearfully, hopefully. + +"We'll pretend we aren't married at all," he said. "We'll make believe +we're at a house party or something, and I just met you. I'm no end +interested in you right off, of course. I haven't any idea how you feel +about me....We'll start off as if we just met, and it's up to me to +make you fall in love with me....I'll bring out the whole bag of +tricks. Flowers and candy and such like, and walks and rides. I'll get +right down and pursue you....After a while you'll--maybe--get so far as +to call me by my first name." He laughed like a small boy. "And some +day you'll let me hold your hand--pretending you don't know I'm holding +it at all....And I'll be making love to you to--to beat the band. +Regular crush I'll have on you....What do you think?" + +"You mean REALLY?...You mean we'll LIVE like that? That we won't be +married, but do like you said?" She was staring at him with big, +unbelieving eyes. + +"That's the idea exactly....We won't be married till I WIN you. That's +the game....And I'll try hard--you haven't any notion how hard I'll +try." There was something pleading, pathetic in his voice, that went to +her heart. + +"Oh," she said, breathlessly, "that's DEAR of you.... You're good--so +GOOD.... I--I hate myself.... You'll do THAT?... I didn't--know +anybody--could be--so--so good." She swayed, swayed toward him in a +storm of tears, and he drew her face down on his shoulder while with +awkward hand he patted her shoulder. + +"There.... There..." he said, clumsily, happily. She did not draw away +from him, but lay there wetting his coat with her tears, her heart +swelling with thanks-giving; fear vanished, and something was born in +her breast that would never die. The thing that was born was a perfect +trust in this man she had married, and a perfect trust is one of the +rarest and most wonderful things under the sun. + +For so young a man, Bonbright felt singularly fatherly. He held his +wife gently, silently, willing that she should cry, with a song in his +heart because she nestled to him and wept on his shoulder. If he +deluded himself that she clung to him because of other, sweeter emotion +than grief, relief, it did not diminish his happiness. The moment was +the best he had known for months, perhaps the best he had ever known. + +Ruth sat up and wiped her eyes. He looked into them, saw them cleared +now of dread, and it was a sufficient reward. For her part, in that +instant, Ruth almost loved Bonbright, not as lovers love, but as one +loves a benefactor, some one whose virtues have earned affection. But +it was not that sort that Bonbright asked of her, she knew full well. + +"Now--er--Miss Frazer," he said, briskly, "I don't want to appear +forward for a new acquaintance, but if I suggested that there was a +bully play in town--sort of tentatively, you know--what would happen to +me?" + +"Why, Mr. Foote," she replied, able to enter into the spirit of the +pretense, "I think you'd find yourself in the awkward position of a +young man compelled to buy two seats." + +"No chaperons?" + +"Where I come from," she said, "chaperons are not in style." + +"And we'll go some place after the play....I want to make the most of +my opportunity, because I've got to work all day to-morrow. It's a +shame, too, because I have a feeling that I'd like to monopolize you." + +"Aren't you going a bit fast for a comparative stranger?" she asked, +merrily. + +He pretended to look crestfallen. "You sha'n't have to put me in my +place again," he promised; "but wait--wait till we've known each other +a week!...Do you know, Miss Frazer, you have a mighty charming smile!" + +"It has been remarked before," she said. + +"We mustn't keep our hostess waiting. I'm afraid we'll be late for +dinner, now." He chuckled at the idea. + +"I never have eaten dinner with a man in evening dress," she said, with +a touch of seriousness. "In the country I come from the men don't wear +them." How true that was--in the country she came from, the country of +widows who kept boarding houses, of laborers, of Dulac and their sort! +She was in another land now, a land she had been educated to look upon +with enmity; the land of the oppressor. Little revolutionist--she was +to learn much of that country in the days to come and to know that in +it bad men and good men, worthy women and trifling women, existed in +about the same ratio as in her own familiar land....Bonbright insisted +upon buying her violets--the first costly flowers she had ever worn. +They occupied desirable seats--and the few plays Ruth had seen she had +seen from gallery heights! Fortunately it was a bright play, brimming +with laughter and gayety, presenting no squalid problems, holding up to +the shrinking eyes of the audience no far-fetched, impossible tangles +of sex. They enjoyed it. Ruth enjoyed it. That she could do so is +wonderful, perhaps, but then, so many human capabilities are wonderful! +Men about to be hanged eat a hearty meal with relish.... How much more +might Ruth find pleasure since she had been granted a reprieve! + +When the curtain descended they moved toward the exits, waiting for the +crowd to clear the way. Bonbright's attention was all for Ruth, but her +eyes glanced curiously about, observing the well-fed, well-kept, +brilliantly dressed men and women--men and women of the world to which +she belonged now. As one approached them and saw them, they were +singularly human. Their faces were not different from faces she was +accustomed to. Cleaner they were, perhaps, with something more of +refinement. They were better dressed, but there she saw the same +smiles, the same weariness, the same charm, the same faces that told +their tales of hard work and weary bodies.... They were just human +beings, all of them, HER sort and these.... + +Suddenly her fingers tightened on her husband's arm. He heard her draw +a quick, startled little breath, and looked up to see his father and +mother approaching them, from the opposite direction. Bonbright had not +expected this. It was the last place in the world he had thought to +encounter his parents--but there they were, not to be avoided. He +stopped, stiffened. Ruth stole a glance at his face and saw it suddenly +older, tenser. + +Mr. and Mrs. Foote approached slowly. Ruth knew the moment Mrs. Foote +saw her husband, for the stately woman bit her lip and spoke hurriedly +to Bonbright's father, who glanced at Bonbright and then at her +uncertainly. Ruth saw that Mrs. Foote held her husband's arm, did not +allow him to turn aside, but led him straight toward them.... Bonbright +stood stiff, expectant. On came his father and mother, with no +quickening of pace. Bonbright's eyes moved from one face to the other +as they approached. Now they were face to face. Mrs. Foote's eyes +encountered Ruth's, moved away from the girl to her son, moved +on--giving no sign of recognition. Mr. Foote looked stonily before +him....And so they passed, refusing even a bow to their son, the only +child that had been given them....That others had seen the episode Ruth +knew, for she saw astonished glances, saw quick whisperings. + +Then she looked up at her husband. He had not turned to look after his +parents, but was staring before him, his face white, his eyes burning, +little knots of muscle gathered at the points of his jaw. She pressed +his arm gently and heard his quick intake of breath--so like a sob. + +"Come," he said, harshly. "Come." + +"It was cruel--heartless," she said, fiercely, quickly partisan, making +his quarrel her own, with no thought that the slight had been for her +as well as for him. + +"Come," he repeated. + +They went out into the street, Bonbright quivering with shame and +anger, Ruth not daring to speak, so white, so hurt was his face, so +fierce the smolder in his eyes. + +"You see..." he said, presently. "You see...." + +"I've cost you THAT," she said. + +"That," he said, slowly, as if he could not believe his words, "that +was my father and--my mother." + +Ruth was frightened. Not until this moment did she realize what she had +done; not until now did the teeth of remorse clench upon her. To marry +her--because he loved her--this boy at her side must suffer THIS. It +was her doing....She had cheated him into it. She had cost him this and +was giving nothing to pay for it. He had foreseen it. Last night he had +cut adrift from his parents because of her--willingly. She knew he +would have made, would make, any sacrifice for her....And she had +married him with no love in her heart, married him to use him for her +own ends! + +She dared not doubt that what she had done was right. She dared not +question her act, nor that the end justified the means she had used. +...But the end was not to be attained. By the act of marrying Bonbright +she had made it impossible for herself to further the Cause....It was a +vicious circle of events. + +As she watched his face she became all woman; revolutionist and martyr +disappeared. Her heart ached for him, her sympathy went out to him. +"Poor boy!..." she said, and pressed his arm again. + +"It was to--be expected," he said, slowly. "I'm glad it's over....I +knew what would happen, so why should the happening of it trouble +me?...There have been six generations in my family that would do that +thing.... Ruth, the Foote Tradition is ended. It ended with me. Such +things have no right to exist.... Six generations of it...." + +She did not speak, but she was resolving silently: "I'll be good to +him. I'll make him happy. I'll make up to him for this...." + +He shook himself. "It doesn't matter," he said. "We sha'n't let it +interfere with our evening....Come, Miss Frazer, where shall we lunch?" + + + + +CHAPTER XXI + + +All of Ruth's life had been spent in contact with the abnormal, the +ultraradical. The tradition which time had reared about HER family--as +powerful in its way as the Foote Tradition, but separated from it by a +whole world--had brought acquaintanceship and intimacy with strange +people and strange cults. In the parlor of her home she had listened to +frank, fantastic discussions; to lawless theories. These discussions, +beginning anywhere, ended always with the reform of the marriage +relation. Anarchist, socialist, nihilist, atheist, Utopian, +altruist--all tinkered with the family group, as if they recognized +that the civilization they were at war with rested upon this and no +other foundation. + +So Ruth was well aware how prone the individual is to experiment with +the processes of forming and continuing the relations between men and +women which have for their cardinal object the peopling of the earth. +But in spite of the radicalism which was hers by right of inheritance +and training, she had not been attracted by any of them. A certain +basic sense of balance had enabled her to see these things were but +vain gropings in the dark; that they might flower successfully in +abnormal individual cases--orchid growths--but that each was doomed to +failure as a universal solution. For mankind in bulk is normal, and its +safety lies in a continuance of normality. Ages had evolved the +marriage relation as it existed; ages might evolve it into something +different as sudden revolution could not. It was the one way, and she +knew it to be the one way. + +Therefore she recognized that Bonbright and herself were embarked on +one of these unstable, experimental craft. She saw, as he did not, that +it was unseaworthy and must founder at the first touch of storm. She +pinned no false hopes to it; recognized it as a makeshift, welcome to +her only as a reprieve--and that it must soon be discarded for a vessel +whose planking was reality and whose sails were woven of normal stuff. + +As the days went by and they were settled in their little flat, living +the exotic life which temporarily solved their problem, she knew it +could not last; feared it might dissolve at any moment. Inevitable +signs of the gust that should destroy it had been apparent...and her +dread returned. Even Bonbright was able to see that his plan was not a +perfect success. + +If it had not been for Dulac.... He complicated the thing +unendurably.... If Bonbright were still heir apparent to the Foote +dynasty, and her plan might be carried out.... She felt a duty toward +Dulac--she had promised to hold him always in her thoughts, felt he was +entitled to a sort of spiritual loyalty from her. And, deprived of him, +she fancied her love for him was as deep as the sea and as enduring as +time.... + +Long days alone, with only the slightest labor to occupy her hands and +mind, gave her idle time--fertile soil for the raising of a dark crop +of morbid thoughts. She brooded much, and, brooding, became restless, +unhappy, and she could not conceal it from Bonbright when he came home +eagerly for his dinner, ready to take up with boyish hope the absurd +game he had invented. She allowed herself to think of Dulac; indeed, +she forced herself to think of him.... + +Five days she had been married, when, going to the door in answer to +the bell, she opened it, to find Dulac standing there. She uttered a +little cry of fright and half closed the door. He held it open with his +knee. + +Sudden terror, not of him, but of herself, caused her to thrust against +the door with all her strength, but he forced it open slowly and +entered. + +"Go away," she said, shrinking from him and standing with her back +against the wall. "Go away...." + +"I stayed away as long as I could," he said. "Now I'm not going +away--until we've had a talk." + +"There's nothing for us to--say," she whispered. "You must be crazy--to +come here." + +He was laboring under excitement. She could see the smoldering fire in +his black eyes; it was plain that he was worn, tired, a man fighting in +the last ditch. His hold upon himself was not secure, but she could not +be sorry for him now. The possibilities his presence suggested +terrified her and excluded all other thoughts. + +He stood with his burning eyes upon her face, not speaking; staring. +"Go away," she begged, but he shook his head. + +"You've been cheated," he said, hoarsely. "It doesn't matter if you +gave yourself to HIM for the reason you said you did--or for his money. +You're cheated.... His kind always cheats. You're getting NOTHING.... +Are you going to stand it? That's what I came to find out.... Are you +going to stand it?" + +She could make no reply. + +"What are you going to do about it?" he demanded. + +"What can I do?... It's too late." + +"Look here, you married him to get something--to be able to do +something.... You didn't have any other reason. You didn't love him. +... You loved ME. He's been kicked out by his family. He doesn't own +anything. He's out for good, and you can't get anything or do anything. +I want to know what you're going to do about it." + +"Nothing." + +"Nothing?... You're not going to stick to him. You don't love +him--probably you hate him by this time.... You couldn't help it." + +"I married him," she said. "It isn't his fault if his family put him +out.... It was MY fault. They did it because he married me.... It was I +who cheated HIM--and you can see--what it's--cost him.... I've got to +make it up to him--someway. I--I don't hate him.... He's been good.... +Oh, he's been wonderfully good." + +"Do you want to live with him?" + +"No," she said. "No...." + +"What about me?... I love you, don't I? Wasn't I before HIM?... Didn't +you give yourself to me? What about me?..." + +"That's all--over," she said. "Oh, please go away. I mustn't talk about +that....I'm MARRIED...." + +"Listen," he said, feverishly. "I love you. This fellow you've married +doesn't know what love is.... What does he know about it? What would he +do for you?..." He leaned forward, his face working, his body quivering +with passion. She let her eyes fall, unable to support his gaze, and +she trembled. His old fascination was upon her; the glamour of him was +drawing her. He poured out a flood of passionate words, bared his soul +to her starkly, as he talked swiftly, burningly of his love, and what +his love meant to him and what it would mean to her. She closed her +eyes to shut out the sight of him; she summoned all the strength of her +will to preserve her from his fascination, to resist his temptation.... + +"I'd have left you alone," he said, "if you'd got what you paid for. +...But when you didn't--when you got nothing--there was no reason for +me to stay away.... You belonged to me. You do belong to me.... Why +should you stick to him? Why?" + +She could not answer him. The only reason she should cling to her +husband was because he WAS her husband, but she knew that would be no +reason to Dulac. + +"There's been a marriage ceremony," he said, scornfully. "What of it? +It isn't marriage ceremonies that unite men and women.... It's +love--nothing else.... When you told me you loved me you married me +more really than any minister can marry you. That was a real +marriage--but you didn't think you were breaking any laws or violating +any morals when you left me and married HIM. Just because we hadn't +gone to a church.... You're married to ME and living with him--that's +what it amounts to.... Now I'm here demanding you. I'm after my wife." + +"No..." she said, weakly. + +"Yes, my wife.... I want you back and I'm going to have you back. ... +With the bringing up you've had, you're not going to let this +CONVENTION--this word--marriage--hold you.... You're coming with me." + +The thing was possible. She saw the possibility of it, the danger that +she might yield. The man's power drew her. She WANTED to go; she WANTED +to believe his sophistry, but there was a stanchness of soul in her +that continued to resist. + +"No..." she said, again. + +"You'll come," he said, "because you can't stand it. I know.... Every +time he touches you you want to scream. I know. It's torture. ... He'll +find out. Don't you think he'll find out you don't love him--how you +feel when he comes near you? And what then?... You'll come to me +willingly now--or you'll come when he pushes you out." + +"He'll--not--find out." + +Dulac laughed. "Anybody but a young fool would have known before +this....But I don't want to wait for that. I want you now." He came +toward her eagerly to take her in his arms. She could not move; her +knees refused to carry her from him....Her senses swam. If he touched +her it would be the end--she knew it would be the end. If he seized her +in his arms she would never be able to escape. His will would master +her will. Yet she could not move--she was under his spell. It was only +subconsciously that she wanted to escape. It was only the true instinct +in her that urged her to escape. + +His arms were reaching out for her now; in an instant his hands would +touch her; she would be clutched tightly to him--and she would be +lost.... + +Her back was against the wall....In that supreme instant, the instant +that stood between her and the thing that might be, the virtue in her +recoiled, the stanchness asserted itself, the command to choose the +better from the worse course made itself heard to her will. She cried +out inarticulately, thrust out with terrified arms, and pushed him from +her. + +"Don't touch me," she cried. "What you say is not true. I know. ...I'm +his wife--and--you must go. You must--never come back. ...Bonbright is +my husband--and I'll--stay with him....I'll do what I've got to do. I +sha'n't listen to you. Go--please, oh, please go--NOW." + +The moment had come to Dulac and he had not been swift enough to grasp +it. He realized it, realized he had failed, that nothing he could do or +say would avail him now....He backed toward the door, never removing +his eyes from her face. + +"You're MY wife," he said. "You won't come now, but you'll come. +...I'll make you come." He stopped a moment in the door, gazing at her +with haggard eyes.... "And you know it," he said. Then he closed the +door, and she was alone. + +She sank to the floor and covered her face with her hands, not to hide +her tears--for there were no tears to flow--but because she was ashamed +and because she was afraid....She knew how close she had been to +yielding, how narrow had been the margin of her rescue--and she was +afraid of what might happen next time, of what might happen when her +life with Bonbright became unbearable, as she knew it must become +unbearable. + +She crouched and trembled...and then she began to think. It was given +her to perceive what she must do. Instead of fondling Dulac in her +thoughts, she must put him out of her heart, she must not permit him in +her dreams....She had promised him he should be always present in her +thoughts. That promise she must break. Daily, hourly, she must steel +herself against him in preparation for his next appearance, for she +knew he would appear again, demanding her....It was not in the man to +give her up, as it was not in him to surrender any object which he had +set his soul to attain. + +In spite of cults and theories and makeshifts and sophistries, she knew +where her duty lay, where the safety of her soul lay--it was in +fidelity to her husband. She resolved that fidelity should be his, and +as she resolved it she knew that he deserved it of her. She resolved +that she would eject Dulac from her life, and that, with all the +strength of her will, she would try to bring herself to give that love +to Bonbright which she had promised him by implication, but never by +word. She did not know that love cannot be created by an effort of the +will.... + +Before she arose from her pitiful posture she considered many plans, +and discarded them all. There was no plan. It must all be left to the +future. First she believed it was required that she should tell +Bonbright she had married him without love, and beg of him to be +patient and to wait, for she was trying to turn her love to him. But +that, she saw, would not serve. He was being patient now, wonderfully, +unbelievably patient. What more could she ask of him? It would only +wound him, who had suffered such wounds through her. She could not do +that. She could do nothing but wait and hope--and meet her problems as +best she could when they arose. It was not an encouraging outlook. + +Resolve as she would, she could not quiet her fears. Dulac would come +again. He might find her in a weaker moment. Now, instead of one terror +she harbored two.... + + + + +CHAPTER XXII + + +Bonbright, in his business experience, had been like a man watching a +play in a foreign language, from a box seat--with an interpreter to +translate the dialogue. Now he found himself a member of the cast; very +much a member, with abundant lines and business. In his old position as +heir apparent to Bonbright Foote, Incorporated, he had been unhappy. +Time had hung heavily on his hands. He had not been allowed to +participate in actual affairs except as some automatic machine or +rubber stamp participates. There every effort of his superiors had been +directed to eliminating his individuality and to molding him to the +Bonbright Foote type. He had not been required to use his +brains--indeed, had been forbidden to do so. + +In his new employment the condition was reversed. It seemed as if +everything his father had desired him to do was interdicted in Malcolm +Lightener's vast organization; everything that had been taboo before +was required of him now. He was asked to think; he was taught to make +his individuality felt; he was encouraged to suggest and to exercise +his intelligence independently. There were actually suggestion boxes in +every department where the humblest laborer might deposit a slip of +paper telling the boss any notion he had which he deemed of service to +the enterprise. More than that--any suggestion accepted was paid for +according to its value. + +In Bonbright's father's plant change and invention were frowned upon. +New devices were regarded as impious. The typewriter was tolerated; the +telephone was regarded with shame. The Ancestors had not made use of +such things....Malcolm Lightener let no instrument for adding +efficiency pass untried. It was the same in office and in shop. The +plant was modern to the second--indeed, it was a stride ahead of the +minute. There was a large experimental laboratory presided over by an +engineer of inventive trend, whose business it was to eliminate and +combine processes; to produce machines which would enable one man to +perform the labor of three; to perform at one process and one handling +the work that before required several processes and the passing of the +thing worked upon from hand to hand. + +If Bonbright had been interested in any phase of his father's business +it had been in the machine shops. Now he saw how costly were those +antique processes, how wasteful of time and labor. His father's profits +were large; Bonbright saw very quickly how a revolution in methods +would make them enormous. But he knew that revolution would not take +place--the Ancestors forbade.... + +The thing had started at the first moment of his connection with +Malcolm Lightener as an employee. He had reported promptly at seven +o'clock, and found Lightener already in his office. It was Lightener's +custom to come down and to go home later for breakfast. + +"Morning," said Lightener. "Where's your overalls?" + +"Overalls?" said Bonbright. + +"Didn't I tell you to bring some? You'll need 'em. Wait, I'll send a +boy out for some--while we have a talk....Now then, you've got a job. +After six o'clock you and I continue on the same basis as before; +between seven in the morning and six at night you're one of the men who +work for me--and that's all. You get no favors. What they get you +get....There aren't any soft jobs or hangers-on here. Everybody earns +what he's paid--or he finds he isn't getting paid. Clear?" + +"Perfectly," said Bonbright, not wholly at his ease. + +"The object of this plant is to make automobiles--to make GOOD +automobiles, and to make the most of them that can be made. If one man +falls down on his job it delays everybody else. Suppose one man +finishing THIS"--he held up a tiny forging--"does a botch job.... +There's just one of these to a car, and he's held up the completion of +a car. That means money.... Suppose the same man manages to turn out +two perfect castings like this in the time it once took to turn out +one.... Then he's a valuable man, and he hustles up the whole +organization to keep even with him. Every job is important because it +is a part of the whole operation, which is the turning out of a +complete automobile. Understand?" + +"Yes." + +"Some men are created to remain laborers or mechanics all their lives. +Some are foreordained bookkeepers. A few can handle labor--but that's +the end of them. A very few have executive and organizing and financial +ability. The plums are for them.... Every man in this plant has a +chance at them. You have.... On the other hand, you can keep on earning +what you're getting now until you're sixty. It's up to you.... I'm +giving you a start. That's not sentiment. It's because you've education +and brains--and there's something in heredity. Your folks have been +successful--to a degree and in their own way. I'm making a bet on +you--that's all. I'm taking a chance that you'll pay back at the box +office what you're going to cost for some months. In other words, +instead of your paying for your education, I'm sending you to school on +the chance that you'll graduate into a man that will make money for me. +But you've got to make good or out you go. Fair?" + +"Yes," said Bonbright. + +"All right. Remember it....You've got the stuff in you to make a man at +the top--maybe. But you don't start at the top. You've got to scramble +up just like anybody else. Right now you're not worth a darn. You don't +know anything and you can't do anything. Day labor's where you +belong--but you couldn't stand it. And it wouldn't be sense to put you +at it, or I would. I'd set you to sweeping out the machine shops if I +thought you needed it....Maybe you figured on sitting at a mahogany +desk?" + +"I came to do whatever you put me at," Bonbright said. "I've been fed +up on sitting at a mahogany desk." + +"Good--if you mean it. I hear a lot of four flush about what men are +willing to do. Heaps of them repeat copybook platitudes....You're going +to wear overalls and get your hands dirty. If you don't like it you can +always quit....I know how to do darn nearly everything that's done in +this place. The man who gets up near me has got to know it, too." Here +was a hint for Bonbright of the possibilities that Malcolm Lightener +opened up to him. "This morning you're going into the machine shop to +run a lathe, and you're going to stay there till you KNOW how it's +done. Then we'll move you some place else. Your place is in the office. +But how soon you get there, or whether you ever get there, is up to +you. Like the looks of it?" + +Bonbright was silent a moment. When he spoke it was not in reply to +Lightener's question, but to put into words a fear that had become +apparent. + +"The men," he said; "how about them?...You know, father sort of +advertised me as a strike breaker and that kind of thing. Our men hate +me. I suppose all laboring men feel that way about me." + +"We don't have any unions here. I run my own plant, and, by gracious! I +always will. I give my men fair pay--better than most. I give them all +the opportunity they ask for. I give them the best and safest +conditions to work in that can be had. I figure a good crew in a plant +is a heap more valuable than good machinery--and I keep my machinery in +repair and look after it mighty careful. But no union nonsense.... You +won't have any trouble with the men." + +Bonbright was not so sure.... Presently the boy returned with the +overalls. Lightener wrote a note and handed it to the boy. "Take this +man to Shop One and give this note to Maguire," he said; then he turned +to Bonbright and jerked his thumb toward the door. Bonbright got up +without a word and followed the boy. + +In a moment the boy opened a big door, and Bonbright stepped through. +The sight took away his breath--not that he had never seen this room +before, but that he was now seeing it through other eyes, not merely as +a spectator, but as a participant. It seemed to him as if the +dimensions of the room should be measured not in feet, but in acres. It +was enormous, but huge as it was it was all too small for the tangle of +machinery it contained. To Bonbright's eyes it seemed a tangle. A +labyrinth of shafting, countershafting, hung from the high ceiling, +from whose whirring pulleys belts descended to rows upon rows of +machines below. It looked like some strange sort of lunar forest, or +some species of monstrous, magic banyan tree. Here were machines of a +hundred uses and shapes, singly, in batteries--a scrambled mass it +seemed. There were small machines--and in the distance huge presses, +massive, their very outlines speaking of gigantic power. Bonbright had +seen sheets of metal fed into them, to be spewed out at another point +bent and molded to a desired form. Overhead conveyers increased the +scrambled appearance. Men with trucks, men on hurried errands, hurried +here and there; other men stood silently feeding hungry +contrivances--men were everywhere, engrossed in their work, paving +scant attention to anything outside their task. And rushing up to +Bonbright was a wave of composite sounds, a roar, a bellow, a shriek, a +rattle, a whir, a grind.... It seemed the ultimate possibility of +confusion. + +But as he walked down the aisle, dodging from time to time men or +trucks that regarded him not at all, but depended on him to clear the +way and to look out for himself, he was able to perceive something of +the miraculous orderliness and system of it. He was given a hint of the +plan--how a certain process would start--a bit of rough metal; how it +would undergo its first process and move on by gradual steps from one +machine to the next, to the next, in orderly, systematic way. No time +was lost in carrying a thing hither and thither. When one man was +through with it, the next man was at that exact point, to take it and +contribute his bit to its transformation.... Something very like a +thrill of pride passed over Bonbright. He was a part of this marvel.... + +Through this room they walked--the room would have sufficed in extent +for a good-sized farm--and into another, not smaller, and into another +and another. His destination, Shop One, was smaller, but huge enough. +The boy led Bonbright to a short, fat man. in unbelievably grimy +overalls and black, visored cap. + +"Mr. Maguire," he shouted, "here's a man and a note from the boss." +Then he scurried away. + +Maguire looked at the note first, and shoved it into his pocket; then +he squinted at Bonbright--at his face first; then, with a quizzical +glint, at his clothes. Bonbright flushed. For the first time in his +life he was ashamed of his clothes, and for a reason that causes few +men to be ashamed of their clothes. He wished they were of cheaper +cloth, of less expensive tailoring. He wished, most of all, that the +bright new overalls in the bundle under his arm were concealing them +from view. + +"You're a hell of a looking machinist," said Maguire. + +Bonbright felt it to be a remarkably true saying. + +"The boss takes this for a darn kindergarten," Maguire complained. +"Ever run a lathe or a shaper or a planer?" + +"No." + +"He said to stick you on a lathe.... Huh! What's he know about it?... +How's he expect this room to make a showing if it's goin' to be charged +with guys like you that hain't nothin' but an expense?" + +Bonbright got the idea back of that. Maguire was personally interested +in results; Maguire wanted his room to beat other rooms in the weekly +reports; Maguire was working for something more than wages--he was +playing the game of manufacturing to win. + +"You go on a planer," Maguire snapped, "and Gawd help you if you spoil +more castings than I figger you ought to.... The boys here'll make it +hot for you if you pull down their average." + +So the boys were interested, too. The thing extended downward from the +bosses! + +"Goin' to work in them clothes?" asked Maguire, with a grin. + +"Overalls," said Bonbright, tapping his parcel. + +Maguire went to his desk and took a key from a box. "I'll show you your +locker," he said; and presently Bonbright, minus his coat, was incased +in the uniform of a laborer. Spick and span and new it was, and gave +him a singularly uncomfortable feeling because of this fact. He wanted +it grimed and daubed like the overalls of the men he saw about him. A +boyish impulse to smear it moved him--but he was ashamed to do it +openly. + +Maguire led him to a big contrivance which was called a shaper. A boy +of eighteen was operating it. On its bed, which moved back and forth +automatically, was bolted a great cake of iron--a casting in the rough. +The machine was smoothing its surfaces. + +"Show him," Maguire said to the boy, "then report to me." + +The boy showed Bonbright efficiently--telling him what must be done to +that iron cake, explaining how the machine was to be stopped and +started, and other necessary technical matters. Then he hurried off. +Bonbright gazed at the casting ruefully, afflicted with stage fright. +... He was actually about to perform real labor--a labor requiring a +certain measure of intellect. He was afraid he would make a mistake, +would do something wrong, and possibly spoil the casting. He started +the planer gingerly. It had not seemed to move rapidly when the boy was +operating it, but now the bed seemed fairly to fly forward and snap +back. He bent forward to look at the cutting he had made; it was right. +So far he was all right.... Surreptitiously he laid his palm in a mass +of grease and metal particles and wiped it across his breast.... It was +an operation which he repeated more than once that morning. + +Gradually his trepidation passed and he began to enjoy himself. He +enjoyed watching that casting move resistlessly under the tool; watched +the metal curl up in glittering little curlicues as the tool ate its +way across. He looked with pleasure at the surface already planed and +with anticipation of the surface still in the rough.... It was +interesting; it was fun. He wondered vaguely if all men who worked at +tasks of this kind found pleasure in them, not appreciating that years +of doing the same thing over and over might make it frightfully +monotonous. The truth was the thing had not yet become work to him. It +was a new experience, and all new experiences bring their thrill. + +Until the noon whistle blew he hardly took his eyes off his work. He +did not know that Maguire passed him a dozen times, not stopping, but +watching him closely as he passed.... With the stopping of work about +him he realized that he was tired. He had lifted weights; he had used +unaccustomed muscles. He was hot, sweaty, aching. He was hungry. + +"Where do we eat?" he asked the man who stood at the next machine. + +"Didn't you bring no lunch?" + +"No." + +"Some doesn't," said the man, as if he disapproved exceedingly of that +class. "They feed at the hash house across the street.... Hain't broke, +be you?" + +Bonbright understood the kindly offer implied. "Thank you--no," he +said, and followed to the big wash room. + +He ate his lunch from the top of a tall stool. It was not the sort of +food he was accustomed to, and the coffee was far from being the sort +that had been served to him in his home or in his club--but he hardly +noticed it. When he was through he walked back across the street and +stood awkwardly among his mates. He knew none of them. + +An oldish, smallish man looked at him and at his overalls, and grinned. + +"New man?" he asked. + +"Yes." + +"Thought them overalls wasn't long off the shelf. You done a good job, +though, considerin'." + +Bonbright blushed. + +"Where you been workin'?" + +How was Bonbright to answer? He couldn't tell the truth without shaming +himself in this man's eyes, and all at once he found he greatly desired +the good opinion of this workingman and of the other workingmen about +him. + +"I--The last place I worked was Bonbright Foote, Incorporated," he +said, giving his father's institution its full name. + +"Urn.... Strikin', eh?" + +Bonbright nodded. He had struck. Not with a union, but as an individual. + +"'Bout over, hain't it, from all I hear tell?" + +"I think so," said Bonbright. + +"Bad business.... Strikes is always bad--especially if the men git +licked. Unions hain't no business to call strikes without some show of +winnin'..... The boys talk that this strike never had no chance from +the beginnin'.... I don't think a heap of that Foote outfit." + +"Why?" + +"Rotten place to work, I hear. A good machinist can't take no pleasure +there, what with one thing and another. Out-of-date machines, and what +not.... That young Foote, the cub, is a hell winder, they say. Ever see +him?" + +"I've seen him." + +"His father was bad enough, by all accounts. But this kid goes him one +better. Wonder some of them strikers didn't git excited and make him +acquainted with a brick. I've heard of fightin' strikes hard--but never +nothin' like this one. Seems like this kid's a hard one. Wants to smash +hell out of the men just to see them smash.... How'd he strike you?" + +"I was sorry for him," said Bonbright, simply. + +"Sorry?... What's the idea?" + +"I--I don't believe he did what people believe. He didn't really have +anything to do with the business, you know. He didn't count.... All the +things that he was said to do--he didn't do at all. His father did them +and let the men think it was his son." + +"Sounds fishy--but if it's so somebody ought to lambaste the old man. +He sure got his son in bad.... What's this I hear about him marryin' +some girl and gettin' kicked out?" + +"That's true," said Bonbright. + +"Huh!... Wonder what he'll do without his pa. Them kind hain't much +good, I notice.... Maybe he's well fixed himself, though." + +"He hasn't a cent," said Bonbright. + +"Appears like you know a heap about him.... Maybe you know what he's +doin' now?" + +"Working." + +"Friends give him a soft job?" + +"He's working in a--machine shop," said Bonbright. + +"G'wan," said the man, incredulously. Then he looked sharply at +Bonbright, at his new overalls, back again at his face. + +"What's your name?" he asked, suspiciously. + +"Foote," said Bonbright. + +"HIM?" + +"Yes," said Bonbright. + +The man paused before he spoke, and there was something not kindly that +came into his eyes. "Speakin' perty well of yourself, wasn't you?" he +said, caustically, and, turning his back, he walked away. ... That +action cut Bonbright more deeply than any of the few affronts that had +been put upon him in his life had cut. He wanted to call the man back +and demand that he listen to the truth. He wanted to explain, to set +himself right. He wanted that man and all men to know he was not the +Bonbright Foote who had brought on the strike and fought it with such +vindictive ruthlessness. He wanted to prove that he was innocent, and +to wring from them the right to meet and to be received by his fellow +laborers as one of themselves.... + +He saw the man stop beside a group, say something, turn, and point to +him. Other men turned and stared. Some snickered. Bonbright could not +bear it. He jostled his way through the crowd and sought refuge in the +shop. + +The morning had been a happy one; the afternoon was dismal. He knew he +was marked. He saw men pointing at him, whispering about him, and could +imagine what they were saying. In the morning he had been received +casually as an equal. Nobody had welcomed him, nobody had paid +particular attention to him. That was as it should be. He was simply +accepted as another workman.... The attitude of the men was quite the +opposite now. He was a sort of museum freak to them. From a distance +they regarded him with curiosity, but their manner set him apart from +them. He did not belong. He felt their hostility.... If they had lined +up and jeered him Bonbright would not have felt the hurt so much, for +there would have been something to arouse his fighting spirit. + +One remark he overheard, which stood aptly for the attitude of all. +"Well, he's gettin' what's comin' to him," was the sentence. It showed +him that the reputation his father had given him was his to wear, and +that here he would find no friends, scant toleration, probably open +hostility.... He got no pleasure that afternoon from watching his cake +of metal move backward and forward with the planer-bed. + +When the whistle blew again he hurried out, looking into no man's face, +avoiding contacts. He sneaked away.... And in his heart burned a hot +resentment against the father that had done this thing.... + + + + +CHAPTER XXIII + + +Such pretense as Bonbright's and Ruth's is possible only to the morbid, +the eccentric, or the unhealthy. Neither of them was morbid, neither +eccentric, both abundantly well. Ruth saw the failure of it days before +Bonbright had even a hint. After Dulac burst in upon her she perceived +the game must be brought to an end; that their life of make-believe was +weighted with danger for her. She determined to end it--but, ironically +enough, to end it meant to enter upon another make-believe existence +far harder to live successfully than the first. One can make believe to +love on the stage, uttering skillfully the words of an author and +carrying out the instructions of a stage director. An audience may be +taken in.... A play is brief. But to begin a spurious love scene which +is to last, not twenty minutes, but for a lifetime, is a matter of +quite different color. She determined to begin it.... + +But with the sound of Bonbright's footfall on the stairs her resolution +vanished. "To-morrow," she whispered to herself, with sudden dread. +"To-morrow...." And so she put it off from day to day. + +In the beginning Bonbright had been optimistic. He had seen her +reluctance, her reserves, vanishing in a few days. But they did not +vanish. He found himself no nearer his wife than he had been at the +beginning. Optimism became hope, hope dwindled, became doubt, uneasy +wonder. He could not understand, and it was natural he should not +understand. At first he had believed his experience was the experience +of all bridegrooms. Days taught him his experience was unique, +unnatural. Ruth saw him often now, sitting moodily, eyes on the +floor--and she could read his thoughts. Yet he tried to bolster up the +pretense. He had given his promise, and he loved Ruth. He could not, +would not do as most men would have done.... What neither of them saw +was that pretense had made a sudden change to reality impossible.... + +Bonbright was unhappy at home, unhappy at work. Just as he was outside +his wife's real life, so he was excluded from the lives of the men he +worked with. He was not, to them, a fellow laborer; he was Bonbright +Foote VII. But he made no complaint or appeal to Malcolm Lightener.... +He did not know how unnecessary an appeal to Lightener would be, for +Lightener kept himself well acquainted with the facts, watched and +waited, and the satisfaction of the automobile king grew and increased. + +"He's no squealer," he said to his daughter. "He's taking his medicine +without making a face." + +"What's the good, dad? It's mean.... Why don't you take him into the +office?" + +"We have a testing department," he said. "Every scrap of metal that +goes into a car is tested before we use it.... Bonbright's in the +testing department." + +"Isn't it possible to keep on testing a piece of metal till it's all +used up?" she said. + +"H'm!... Suppose you mind your own business," he said, in his gruff, +granite way--not rudely nor offensively. "How's his wife? How are they +getting along?" + +Hilda shook her head. "They're queer, dad. Somehow I don't believe +things are working out the way they should. I can't understand HER." + +"Squabbling?" + +"Never.... Bonbright's so gentle with her. He has a sort of wistful way +with him as soon as she comes near. It makes me want to cry. Somehow he +reminds me of a fine, affectionate dog watching a master who doesn't +give back any affection. You know." + +"Doesn't she?" + +"Give back affection?... That's just it. I don't know. I've been there +and seen him come home. She acts queerly. As soon as she hears him +coming up the stairs she seems to shut up. It's as if she turned out +the lights.... Where the ordinary girl would be running to kiss him and +make a fuss over him she--doesn't do anything.... And she keeps +watching him. And there's something in her eyes like--well, like she +was blaming herself for something, and was sorry for him. ... She +seems, when she's with him, as if she were trying to make up to him for +something--and didn't know how." + +"Readjustment," Lightener grunted. "They jumped into the thing +kerplunk. Queer start-off." + +"I don't know.... She's a dear--and he's a dear.... It isn't like +anything I've ever seen. It's something peculiar." + +"Must be his fault. I told him--" + +"It isn't his fault." Hilda spoke with certainty. "If you could see him +you'd know it. His manner toward her--why, dad, I never saw a man so +sweet and gentle and patient." + +"Maybe that's the trouble. Too much patience is as bad as too much +raising the devil." + +"No.... It's something." + +She turned to leave the room, when her father called after her: +"Bonbright quit chawing castings to-night. He doesn't know it, but +to-morrow he gets a new job.... Has all of that he needs. Knows how it +feels." + +"What's he going to do now?" + +"Nice, light, pleasant job.... He'll be passing rear axles--made by his +father--down a chute to the assembling track. Bet he'll need Saint +Jacob's oil on his back to-morrow night. Give his wife a job." + +"Why," she scolded, for she was on intimate terms with the factory, +"that's common labor. He'll be working with Wops and Guineas and +Polacks." + +He nodded. "If he stands the gaff I'll ease up on him." + +"If he doesn't?" + +Lightener shrugged his shoulders. + +"Dad," said Hilda, "sometimes you make me MAD...." + +When the factory heard what had become of Bonbright it laughed. +Bonbright was aware it laughed, and he set his teeth and labored. +Beside what he was doing now the machine shop had been play. Rear axles +are not straws to be tossed about lightly. Nor are Wops, Guineas, +Polacks, smelling of garlic, looking at one with unintelligent eyes, +and clattering to one another in strange tongues, such workfellows as +make the day pass more quickly.... + +Bonbright had to pass down a certain number of axles an hour. At +definite, brief intervals a fragment of an automobile would move along +the assembling track and pause beneath his spout--and his axle must be +ready. There was a constant procession of fragments, and a second's +delay brought up to his ears pointed commentary from below. ... The +more pointed that those below knew who was above them. + +He worked feverishly. After a while it became acute torture. He felt as +if every axle he handled was the last he could manage--but he forced +himself to just one more and then just one more--and another. He worked +in a daze. Thought-processes seemed to stop. He was just a mechanism +for performing certain set acts. The pain was gone--everything was gone +but the stabbing necessity for getting another axle on that chute in +time. He wanted to stop at a certain stage, but there was something in +him which would not allow it. After that he didn't care. "Another.... +Another.... Another..." his brain sang over and over endlessly. He was +wet with perspiration; he staggered under the weights; he was +exhausted, but he could not stop. It was as if he were on a treadmill +where he had to keep stepping on and on and on whether he could take +another step or not.... After a century the noon whistle blew. + +Bonbright did not leave his place. He simply sagged down in his tracks +and lay there, eyes shut, panting. Gradually his brain cleared, but he +was too weary to move. Then thirst drove him to motion and he dragged +himself to the wash room, cramped, aching, and there he drank and +sopped himself with cold water.... So this was what men did to live! No +wonder men were dissatisfied; no wonder men formed unions and struck +and rioted!... Bonbright was getting in an efficient school the point +of view of the laborer. + +In the afternoon Malcolm Lightener stood and watched Bonbright, though +Bonbright did not see, for he was working in a red haze again, +unconscious of everything but that insistent demand in his brain for +"another.... Another.... Another...." Lightener watched, granite face +expressionless, and then walked away. + +Bonbright did not hear the evening whistle. He placed another axle on +the chute, but no one was below to take it. He wondered dimly what was +the matter.... A Guinea from the next chute regarded him curiously, +then walked over and touched his shoulder with dirty hand, and wafted +garlic in his face. "Time for quit," said the man. + +Bonbright sat down where he was. It was over. That day was over. Not +another axle, not another, not another. He laid his head against the +chute and shut his eyes.... Presently he staggered to his feet and +walked blindly to the stairway. At the bottom stood Malcolm Lightener, +not there by accident, but with design to test Bonbright's metal to the +utmost. He placed himself there for Bonbright to see, to give Bonbright +opportunity to beg off, to SQUEAL. + +Bonbright, shoulders drooping, legs dragging, face drawn, eyes burning, +would have passed him without recognition, without caring who it was he +passed, but that did not suit Lightener's purpose. + +"Well, Bonbright?" he said. + +Sudden fire flashed in Bonbright's brain. He stopped, and with the +knuckles of a hand that was torn and blistered and trembling, he +knocked on Lightener's broad chest as he would have knocked on a door +that refused to open. "Damn your axles," he said, thickly. "I can get +them there--another--and another--and another--and another.... They're +too slow below.... Make 'em come faster. I can keep up...." And all the +time he was rapping on Lightener's chest. + +He was conscious of what he did and said, but he did not do and say it +of his own volition. He was like a man who dimly sees and hears another +man. Subconsciously he was repeating: "Not another one till +to-morrow.... Not another one till to-morrow...." + +Abruptly he turned away from Lightener and, setting down each foot +heavily with a clump, he plodded toward the wash room. He was going to +rest. He was going to feel cool water on his head and his neck; he was +going to revel in cool water... and then he would sleep. SLEEP! He made +toward sleep as one lost in the desert would make toward a spring of +sweet water.... + +Lightener stood and looked after Bonbright. His granite face did not +alter; no light or shade passed over it. Not even in his gray eyes +could a hint of his thoughts be read. Simply he stood and looked after +Bonbright, outwardly as emotionless as a block of the rock that he +resembled. Then he walked to his office, sat down at his desk, selected +and lighted a cigar, and tilted back in his chair. + +"There's something to that Bonbright Foote formula," he said to +himself. "It's all wrong, but it could produce THAT." + +Then, after a few moments of puffing and of studying the thing, he +said: "We'll see if he comes back to-morrow.... If he DOES come back--" + +At home that evening Hilda asked him about Bonbright. He was ashamed to +confess to her what he had done to the boy--yet he was proud of having +done it. To his own granite soul it was right to subject men to such +tests, but women would not understand. He knew his daughter would think +him a brute, and he did not want his daughter to think any such thing. +"If he comes back in the morning--" he promised. + +Bonbright came back in the morning, though he had been hardly able to +drag himself out of bed. It was not strength of body that brought him, +but pure will. He came, looking forward to the day as a man might look +down into hell--but he came. "I'll show THEM," he said, aloud, at the +breakfast table, as he forced himself to drink a cup of coffee. Ruth +did not understand. She did not understand what was wrong with him; +feared he was on the verge of an illness. He had come home the night +before, scarcely speaking to her, and had gone directly to bed. She +supposed he was in his room preparing for dinner, but when she went to +call him she found him fast asleep, moaning and muttering uneasily. + +"What did you say?" she asked, uneasily. + +"Didn't know I spoke," he said, and winced as he moved his shoulders. +But he knew what he had said---that he would show THEM. It wasn't +Malcolm Lightener he was going to show, but the men--his fellow +laborers. The thing that lay in his mind was that he must prove himself +to be their equal, capable of doing what they could do. He wanted their +respect--wanted it pitifully. + +Ruth watched him anxiously as he left the apartment. She knew things +were not well with him and that he needed something a true wife should +give. First, he needed to tell some one about it. He had not told me. +If she had been inside his life, where she belonged, he must have told +her. Second, he needed her sympathy, her mothering.... She might have +been able to give him that--after a fashion.... She felt how it should +be done, knew how she would have done it if only she loved him. "I +could be the right kind of a wife," she said, wistfully. "I know I +could...." + +Bonbright went doggedly to his place at the mouth of the chute and was +ready with the whistle, an axle poised to slide downward to the +assembling car below. He was afraid--afraid he would not be able to get +through the day--absurdly afraid and ashamed of his physical weakness. +If he should play out!... + +A boy tapped him on the shoulder. "You're wanted in the office," he +heard. + +"I've got to--keep up," he said, dully. "Cars are coming along below," +he explained, carefully, "and I've got to get the axles to them." + +"Here's a man to take your place," said the boy--and so strange is man +created in God's image!--he did not want to go. He wanted to see it +through till he dropped. + +"If you keep the boss waiting--" said the boy, ominously. + +Bonbright walked painfully to Lightener's office. + +"Well?" said Lightener. + +"I can do it--I'll harden to it," Bonbright said. + +"Huh!... Take off those overalls.... Boy, go to Mr. Foote's locker and +fetch his things...." + +"Am--am I discharged?" + +"No," said Lightener, bestowing no word of commendation. Men had little +commendation from him by word of mouth. He let actions speak for him. +When he gave a man a task to perform that man knew he was being +complimented.... But he knew it in no other way. + +"That's the way a laborer feels," said Lightener.... "You got it +multiplied. That's because you had to jam his whole life's experience +into a day...." + +"Poor devils!" said Bonbright. + +"I'm going to put you in the purchasing department--after that, if you +make good--into the sales end.... Able to go ahead to-day?" + +"Yes." + +"Before you amount to a darn as a business man you've got to know how +to buy.... That's the foundation. You've got to be able to buy right. +Then you've got to learn how to make. Selling is easiest of all--and +there are darn few real salesmen. If you can buy, you can do anything." + +"I--I would rather stay out of the shops, Mr. Lightener. The men--found +out who I was...I'd like to stay there till they--forget it." + +"You'll go where I put you. Men enough in the purchasing department. +Got a tame anarchist there, I hear, and a Mormon, and a Hindu, and a +single-taxer. All kinds. After hours. From whistle to whistle they BUY." + +Lightener took Bonbright personally to his new employment and left him. +But Bonbright was not satisfied. Once before he had sought contact with +men who labored, and he had landed in a cell in police headquarters. +That had been mere boyish curiosity to find what it was all about. Now +his desire to know was real. He had been--very briefly, it is true--one +of them. Now he wanted to know. He wanted to know how they thought, and +why they thought that way. He wanted to understand their attitude +toward themselves, toward one another, toward the class they largely +denominated as Capital. He had caught snatches of +conversation--interesting to him, but none had talked to him. He wanted +to get on a footing with them which would permit him to listen, and to +talk. He wanted to hear arguments. He wanted to go into their homes and +see their wives and find out what their wives thought.... All this had +been brought to him by a few days in overalls. He had no idea that +Lightener had intended it should be brought to him.... + +However, that must lie in the future; his present business was to do as +he was told and to earn his wages. He must earn his wages, for he had a +family to support.... It was his first experience with the ever-present +fear of the wage earner--the fear of losing his job. + +But he determined to know the men, and planned accordingly. With that +end in view, instead of lunching with men in his department, he went to +the little hash house across the road to drink vile coffee and rub +elbows with laborers in greasy overalls. He would go there every day; +he would seek other opportunities of contact.... Now that he felt the +genuine, sympathetic hunger for an understanding of them and their +problems, he would not rest until it was his.... + + + + +CHAPTER XXIV + + +Bonbright found himself a layman in a department of specialists. On all +sides of him were men who knew all about something, a few who knew a +great deal about several things, and a man or two who appeared to have +some knowledge of every element and article that went into a motor car. +There was a man who knew leather from cow to upholstery, and who talked +about it lovingly. This man had the ability to make leather as +interesting as the art of Benvenuto Cellini. Another was a specialist +in hickory, and thought and talked spokes; another was a reservoir of +dependable facts about rubber; another about gray iron castings; +another about paints and enamels, and so on. In that department it +would not have been impossible to compile an encyclopedia. + +It was impossible that Bonbright should not have been interested. It +was not business, it was a fascinating, enthralling debating society, +where the debates were not of the "Resolved that the world would be +better" sort, but were as to the essential qualities of concrete +things. It was practical debate which saved money and elevated the +standards of excellence. + +The department had its own laboratories, its own chemists, its own +engineers. Everything was tested. Two articles might appear to the +layman equal in virtue; careful examination by experts might not +disclose a difference between them, but the skill of the chemist would +show that this article was a tenth of one per cent, less guilty of +alloy than that, or that the breaking strength of this was a minute +fraction greater than that.... So decisions were reached. + +Bonbright was to learn that price did not always rule. He saw orders +given for carloads of certain supplies which tested but a point or two +higher than its rival--and sold for dollars more a ton. Thousands of +dollars were paid cheerfully for those few points of excellence. ... +Here was business functioning as he did not know business could +function. Here business was an art, and he applied himself to it like +an artist. Here he could lay aside that growing discontent, that +dissatisfaction, that was growing upon him. Here, in the excitement of +distinguishing the better from the worse, he could forget Ruth and the +increasingly impracticable condition of his relations with her. + +He had come to a realization that his game of make-believe would not +march. He realized that Ruth either was his wife or she was not.... But +he did not know what to do about it. It seemed a problem without a +solution, and it was--for him. Its solution did not lie in himself, but +in his wife. Bonbright could not set the thing right; his potentiality +lay only for its destruction. Three courses lay open to him; to assert +his husbandship; to send Ruth home to her mother; or to put off till +to-morrow and to-morrow and still another to-morrow. Only in the last +did hope reside, and he clung to hope.... + +He tried to conceal his unrest, his discontent, his rebellion against +the thing that was, from Ruth. He continued to be patient, gentle. ... +He did not know how she wept and accused herself because of that +gentleness and patience. He did not know how she tried to compel love +by impact of will--and how she failed. But he did come to doubt her +love. He could not do otherwise. Then he wondered why she had married +him, and, reviewing the facts of his hurried marriage, he wondered the +more with bitterness and heartache. Against his will his affairs were +traveling toward a climax. The approaching footsteps of the day when +something must happen were audible on the path. + +The day after his installation in the purchasing department he lunched +at the little hash house across the street. Sitting on his high stool, +he tried to imagine he was a part of that sweating, gulping crowd of +men, that he was one of them, and not an outsider, suspected, regarded +with unfriendly looks. + +Behind him a man began to make conversation for Bonbright's ears. It +had happened before. + +"The strike up to the Foote plant's on its last legs," said the man, +loudly. + +"So I hear," answered another. + +"Infernal shame. If it was only the closed-shop question I dunno's I'd +feel so. We're open shop here--but we git treated like human bein's.... +Over there--" The man shrugged his shoulders. "Look at the way they've +fought the strike. Don't blame 'em for fightin' it. Calc'late they had +to fight it, but there's fightin' and fightin'. ... Seems like this +Foote bunch set out to do the worst that could be done--and they done +it." + +"Wonder when it 'll peter out--the strike?" + +"Back's busted now. Nothin's holding it up but that man Dulac. There's +a man for you! I've knowed labor leaders I didn't cotton to nor have +much confidence in---fellers that jest wagged their tongues and took +what they could get out of it. But this Dulac--he's a reg'lar man. I've +listened to him, and I tell you he means what he says. He's in it to +git somethin' for the other feller.... But he can't hold out much +longer." + +It was true; Dulac could not hold out much longer. That very noon he +was fighting with his back against the wall. In Workingman's Hall he +was making his last fierce fight to hold from crumbling the resolution +of the strikers who still stood by their guns.... He threw the fire of +his soul into their dull, phlegmatic faces. It struck no answering +spark. Never before had he spoken to men without a consciousness of his +powers, without pose, without dramatics. Now he was himself, and more +dramatic, more compelling than ever before. ... He pleaded, begged, +flayed his audience, but it did not respond to his pleadings nor writhe +under the whip of his words. It was apathetic, stolid. In its weary +heart it knew what it was there to do, and it would do it in spite of +Dulac.... He would not admit it. He would not submit to defeat. He +talked on and on, not daring to stop, for with the stoppage of his +harangue he heard the death of the strike. It lived only with his voice. + +In the body of the hall a man, haggard of face, arose. + +"'Tain't no use, Mr. Dulac," he said, dully. "We've stuck by you--" + +"You've stuck by yourselves," Dulac cried. + +"Whatever you say.... But'tain't no use. We're licked. Hain't no use +keepin' up and stretchin' out the sufferin'.... I hain't the least of +the sufferers, Mr. Dulac--my wife hain't with me no more." The dull +voice wabbled queerly. "There's hunger and grief and +sufferin'--willin'ly endured when there was a chance--but there hain't +no chance.... 'Tain't human to ask any more of our wimmin and +children.... It's them I'm a-thinkin' of, Mr. Dulac... and on account +of them I say this strike ought to quit. It's got to quit, and I demand +a vote on it, Mr. Dulac." + +"Vote!... Vote!... Vote!..." roared up to Dulac from all over the +hall.... It was the end. He was powerless to stay the rush of the +desire of those weary men for peace. + +Dulac turned slowly around, his back to the crowd, walked to a chair, +and, with elbows on knees, he covered his face with his hands. There +was a silence, as men looked at him and appreciated his suffering. They +appreciated his suffering because they appreciated the man, his honesty +to their cause, and to his work. He had been true to them. For himself +he would gain nothing by the success of the strike--for them he would +have gained much.... It was not his loss that bowed his head, but their +loss--and they knew it. He was a Messiah whose mission had failed. + +The vote was put. There was no dissenting voice. The strike was done, +and Bonbright Foote, Incorporated, was victor. + +Men clustered about Dulac, wringing his hands, speaking words of +comfort with voices that broke, and the number of those who turned away +with tears was greater than of those whose eyes could remain dry. + +Dulac spoke. "We'll try again--men.... We'll start to get +ready--to-day--for another--fight." + +Then, hurriedly, blindly, he forced his way through them and made his +way out of the hall. Grief, the heaviness of defeat, was all that he +could feel now. Bitterness would come in its time. + +Dulac was a soul without restraints, a soul in eternal uproar. His life +had been one constant kicking against the pricks, and when they hurt +his feet he was not schooled to stifle the cry of pain. He could not +endure patiently and in silence; the tumult of his suffering must have +an outlet. + +Now was the time for an overwrought, overtired man, clothed in no +restraint, to try what surcease was to be found in the bottom of a +glass. But Dulac was not a drinking man. So he walked. As he walked +bitterness awoke, and he cursed under his breath. Bitterness increased +until it was rage, and, as man is so constituted that rage must have a +definite object, Dulac unconsciously sought a man who would symbolize +all the forces that had defeated him--and he chose Bonbright Foote. He +chose Bonbright the more readily because he hated the boy for personal +reasons. If Dulae and Bonbright had met at this moment there would have +happened events which would have delighted the yellower press. But they +did not meet. Bonbright was safe in Lightener's purchasing department, +learning certain facts about brass castings. + +So Dulac walked and walked, and lashed himself into rage. Rage abated +and became biting disappointment and unspeakable heaviness of heart. +Again rage would be conjured up only to ebb again and to flood again as +the hours went by. + +There is an instinct in man which, when his troubles become too weighty +to bear alone, sends him to a woman. Perhaps this is the survival of an +idea implanted in childhood when baby runs to mother for sure comfort +with broken doll or bruised thumb. It persists and never dies, so that +one great duty, one great privilege, one great burden of womankind is +to give ear to man's outpourings of his woes, and to offer such comfort +as she may.... + +Dulac was drawn to Ruth. + +This time she did not try to close the door against him. His first +words made that impossible. + +"I'm--beaten," he said, dully. + +His flamboyance, his threatricality, was gone. He was no longer +flashily masterful, no longer exotically fascinating. He sagged.... He +was just a soul-weary, disappointed man, looking at her out of hollow, +burning eyes. He had spent himself magnificently into bankruptcy. His +face was the face of a man who must rest, who must find peace.... Yet +he was not consciously seeking rest or peace. He was seeking her.... +Seeking her because he craved her, and seeking her to strike at her +husband, who had become a symbol of all the antagonists he had been +fighting. + +His appearance disarmed her; her fear of him and herself was lured away +by the appearance of him. She felt nothing but sympathy and tenderness +and something of wonder that he--Dulac the magnificent--should be +brought to this pass. So she admitted him, regardless even of the +lateness of the afternoon hour. + +He followed her heavily and sank into a chair. + +"You're sick," she said, anxiously. + +He shook his head. "I'm--beaten," he repeated, and in truth beaten was +what he looked, beaten and crushed.... "But I'll--try again," he said, +with a trace of the old gleam in his eyes. + +She clasped and unclasped her hands, standing before him, white with +the emotions that swayed her.... Here was the man she loved in his +bitterest, darkest moment--and she was barred away from him by +unwelcome barriers. She could not soothe him, she could not lighten his +suffering with the tale of her love for him, but she must remain mute, +holding out no hand to ease his pain. + +"I came for you," he said, dully. + +"No," she said. + +"Ruth--I need you--now...." This man, who had wooed her boldly, had +demanded her masterfully, now was brought to pleading. He needed her. +It was plain that he did need her, and, realizing it, she saw the +danger of it. It was a new, a subtle attack, and it had taken her +unawares. + +"I can't.... I can't.... I mustn't..." she said, breathlessly. + +"I must have you," he said, with dead simplicity, as one states a bare, +essential fact. Then Bonbright was visualized before him, and rage +flooded once more. "He sha'n't keep you!... You're mine--you were mine +first.... What is he to you? I'm going to take you away from him.... I +can do THAT...." + +He was less dangerous so. Perhaps instinct told him, for his passion +stilled itself, and he became tired, pitiful again. + +"We've got a right to be happy," he said, in his tired voice. "You're +not happy--and I'm--beaten.... I want you--I need you.... You'll come +with me. You've got to come with me." + +She was moved, swayed. He needed her.... She had cheated Bonbright in +the beginning. She was not his wife.... He had none of her love, and +she believed this man had it wholly.... She had wronged Bonbright all +she could wrong him--what would this matter? It was not this that was +wrong, but the other--the marrying without love.... And she, too, was +beaten. She had played her game and lost, not going down to defeat +fighting as Dulac had gone down, but futilely, helplessly. She had +given herself for the Cause--to no profit.... And her heart yearned for +peace, for release. + +"I'm his wife," she said, still struggling flutteringly. + +"You're MY wife." He lifted his arms toward her, and she swayed, took a +step toward him--a step toward the precipice. Suddenly she stopped, +eyes startled, a deeper pallor blighting her face--for she heard +Bonbright's step on the stairs.... She had forgotten the lateness of +the hour. + +"Oh'." she said. + +"What is it?" + +"HE is--here." + +She was awakened by the shock of it, and saw, saw clearly. She had +stood upon the brink--and HE had come in time.... And then she was +afraid. + +Neither of them spoke. Dulac got to his feet, his breath coming +audibly, and so they waited. + +Bonbright opened the door. "Ruth," he called, putting what pretense of +gayety he could into his voice. "You've got company. The chronic +visitor is here." He was playing his game bravely. + +She did not answer. + +"Ruth," he called again, and then stood in the door. She could not see +him, but she felt his presence, felt his silence, felt the look of +surprise changing to suspicion that she knew must be in his eyes. + +For a moment he stood motionless, not comprehending. Then the attitude +of his wife and of Dulac spoke eloquently, and he whitened. + +"I don't understand," he said. The words were meaningless, pointless, +perhaps, but they stabbed Ruth to the heart. She turned to him, saw him +step forward slowly, looking very tall, older than she had ever known +him. He had drawn within himself, and there manifested itself his +inheritance from his ancestors. He was like his father, but with an +even more repressed dignity than was his father's. + +"You don't understand," snarled Dulac. "Then I'll tell you. I'm glad +you came.... I'm after your wife. She's going away with me." + +"No.... No..." Ruth whispered. + +"Be still.... She's mine, Foote--and always was. You thought she was +yours--well, she's one thing you can't have. I'm going to tell you why +she married you...." + +Ruth cried out in incoherent fright, protesting. + +"She married you to use you.... Not even for your money. She married +you because her heart was with the men your kind is grinding down. ... +She saw you were the kind of man a woman could twist around her +finger--and you owned five thousand men.... Get the idea?... She was +going to do things for them--with you. You were nothing but a button +she would push. So she married you--and you cheated her.... So she's +done with you. You can't give what she paid for, and she's going away +with me.... She LOVES me. She was promised to marry me--when she saw +what she could do with you--and I let her go.... If she could give, so +could I.... But I loved her and she loved me--and we're going away." + +It was true. Bonbright knew it was true, but he would not admit his +belief until he had confirmation from his wife's lips. + +"Is this true?" he asked, quietly. + +She was shaking with sobs, crouching against the wall. + +"Don't be afraid," Bonbright said again, in a strange, quiet, courteous +voice. "Is it true?" + +"Yes," she whispered, for she could not lie with his eyes upon her. + +"I knew there was--something," he said, with a little halt in his +voice.... That was all. He did not look at Dulac, but stood looking at +her for a moment steadily, almost with grave inquiry.... She looked +from him to Dulac. Subconsciously she compared them.... Bonbright did +not speak again, but turned slowly and walked steadily out of the +room.... Ruth heard the outer door close behind him and knew he was +gone.... Gone! + +Dulac laughed shortly. "That settled HIM," he said. "Now you'll come." + +She stood regarding him as she might have regarded some strangely +endowed person she had never seen before. Then with a sudden, +passionate vehemence she burst out upon him: + +"Never.... Never.... I'll never go with you. I'm his wife--his wife.... +Oh, what have you done?... I hate you--I hate you! Don't ever +dare--come near me again.... I hate you...." + +She turned and fled to her room and locked the door. Though he knocked +and called, though he pleaded and threatened, she made no reply, but +sat dry-eyed, on her bed, until she heard him go away raging.... + + + + +CHAPTER XXV + + +Hilda Lightener's electric stopped before the apartment house where +Bonbright Foote lived, and Hilda alighted. She ignored bell and +speaking tube and ran upstairs to Bonbright's door, on which she +knocked as a warning. Then she opened the door and called: "It's me. +Anybody home?" + +Nobody replied. She called again, and walked into the little living +room where Ruth and Bonbright and Dulac had faced one another an hour +before.... She called again. This time she heard a sound, muffled, +indistinct, but recognizable as a sob. + +"Ruth!" she called, and went to the bedroom door. Now she could hear +Ruth within, sobbing alarmingly. + +"Ruth Foote," said Hilda, "what's the matter?... Where's Bonbright?... +I'm coming in." + +She opened the door, saw Ruth outstretched on the bed, face buried in +her pillow, sobbing with a queer, startling dryness. It was not the sob +of a woman in an attack of nerves, not the sob of a woman merely crying +to rest herself, nor the sob of a bride who has had a petty quarrel +with her husband. It was different, alarmingly different. There was +despair in it. It told of something seriously awry, of stark tragedy. + +Hilda's years were not many, but her intuition was sure. She did not +demand explanations, did not command Ruth to stop crying and tell what +ailed her, but sat down quietly on the bed and stroked the sobbing +girl's hair, crooning over her softly. "There!... There!..." + +Gradually the tenseness, the dry, racking, tearing quality of Ruth's +sobs, softened, ameliorated. Presently she was crying, quietly, +pitifully.... Hilda breathed with relief. She did not know that for an +hour Ruth had sat on the edge of her bed, still, tearless, staring +blindly before her--her soul drying up and burning within her for lack +of tears. She had been unable to cry. She had uttered no sound until +Hilda's voice came in to her. Then she had thrown herself prone in that +paroxysm of wrenching sobs.... + +"There!... There!..." Hilda crooned. + +Ruth's hand crept out fumblingly, found Hilda's dress, and clutched it. +Hilda laid her warm hand over Ruth's cold fingers--and waited. + +"He's--gone," Ruth sobbed, presently. + +"Never mind, honey.... Never mind, now." + +Ruth mumbled incoherently. After a time she raised herself on her arms +and crouched beside Hilda, who put her arms around her and held her +close, as she would have held a troubled child. + +"You'll--despise me," Ruth whispered. + +"I guess not." Hilda pressed Ruth's slenderness against her more robust +body reassuringly. "I don't despise folks, as a rule.... Want to talk +now?" + +She saw that the time for speech had come. + +"He won't come back.... I saw it in his eyes." + +"Who won't come back, dear?" + +"Bonbright." Ruth drew a shuddering breath. Then haltingly, +whimperingly, sobs interrupting, she talked. She could not tell it fast +enough. It must be told, her mind must be relieved, and the story, pent +up so long within her, rushed forth in a flood of despairing, +self-accusing words. It came in snatches, fragments, as high lights of +suffering flashed upon her mind. She did not start at the beginning +logically and carry through--but the thing as a whole was there. Hilda +had only to sort it and reassemble it to get the pitiful tale complete. + +"You--you don't mean you married Bonbright like some of those Russian +nihilist persons one hears about--just to use him and your +position--for some socialist or anarchist thing? You're not serious, +Ruth?... Such things aren't." + +"I--I'd do THAT again," she said. "It was right--to do that--for the +good of all those men.... It's not that--but the rest--not keeping to +my bargain--and--Dulac. I would have--gone with him." + +Hilda shook her head. "Not farther than the door," she said. "You +couldn't--not after Bonbright has been such--such an idiotic angel +about you." + +"I would have--THEN." + +"But you wouldn't now?" + +"I--I can't bear to THINK of him...." + +"Um!..." Hilda's expressive syllable was very like her father's. It was +her way of saying, "I see, and I'll bet you don't see, and I'm not +surprised particularly, but you'll be surprised when you find it out." +It said all that--to Hilda's satisfaction. + +"He's been gone hours," Ruth said, plaintively, and Hilda understood +her to refer to Bonbright. + +"Time he was coming back, then," she said. + +"He--won't come back--ever.... You don't know him the way I do." There +was something very like jealousy in Ruth's tone. "He's good--and +gentle--but if he makes up his mind--If he hadn't been that way do you +think he could have lived with me the way he HAS?" + +"He must have loved you a heap," Hilda said, enviously. + +"He did.... Oh, Hilda, it wasn't wrong to marry him for what I did. ... +I hadn't any right to consider him--or me. I hadn't, had I?" + +"I don't belong," said Hilda. "If I wasn't a wicked capitalist I might +agree with you--MAYBE. I'm not going to scold you for it--because you +THOUGHT it was right, and that always makes the big difference.... You +thought you were doing something splendid, didn't you--and then it +fizzled. It must have been tough--I can get that part of it.... To find +you'd married him and couldn't get out of it--and that he didn't have +any thousands of men to--tinker with.... Especially when you loved Mr. +Dulac." Hilda added the last sentence with shrewd intent. + +"I don't love him--I don't.... If you'd seen him--and Bonbright..." + +"But you did love him," Hilda said, severely Ruth nodded dumbly. + +"You're sure Bonbright won't come back?" + +"Never," said Ruth. + +"Then you'd better go after him." + +Ruth did not answer. She was calmer now, more capable of rational +thought. What SHOULD she do? What was to be done with this +situation?... Her brief married life had been a nightmare with a +nightmare's climax; she could not bear a return to that. Her husband +was gone. She was free of him, free of her dread of the day when she +must face realities with him.... And Bonbright--she felt certain he +would not want her to run after him, that, somehow, it would lower her +even farther in his eyes if she did so. There was a certain dignity +attaching to him that she dared not violate, and to run after him would +violate it. There would, of necessity, be a scene. She would have to +explain, beg, promise--lie. She did not believe she could lie to him +again--nor that she could make him believe a lie. ... Pretense between +them had become an impossibility.... She wanted him to know she had not +gone with Dulac, would not go with Dulac. It seemed to her she could +not bear to have him think THAT of her. She had made his love +impossible, but she craved his respect. That was all.... She was freed +from him--and it was better so. The phase of it that she did not +analyze was why her heart ached so. She did not study into that. + +"I don't want him--back," she said to Hilda. "It would be just like it +was--before." + +"What ARE you going to do, then? You've got to do something." + +"I don't know.... Why must I do something? Why can't I just wait--and +let him do what--whatever is done?" + +"Because--if I know anything about Bonbright--he won't do a thing. ... +He'll just step aside quietly and make no fuss. I'm afraid he's--hurt. +And he's been hurt so much before." + +"I'm--sorry." The words sounded weak, ineffectual. They did not express +her feelings, her remorse, her self-accusation. + +"Sorry?... You haven't cut a dance with him, you know, or kept him +waiting while you did your hair.... You've more or less messed up his +life. Yes, you have. There isn't any use mincing words. Your motives +may have been lofty and noble and all that sort of thing--from your +point of view. But HIS point of view is what I'm thinking about now.... +Sorry!" + +"Don't scold. I can't--bear it. I can't bear anything more.... Please +go away. I know you despise me. Leave me alone. Go away..." + +"I'll do nothing of the kind. You're all upset, and you deserve a heap +more than scolding.... But I like you." Hilda was always direct. +"You're more or less of a little idiot, with your insane notions and +your Joan of Arc silliness, but I like you. You're not fit to be left +alone. I'm in charge.... So go and dabble cold water on your eyes, so +you don't look like Nazimova in the last act, and come along with. me. +We'll take a drive, and then I'm coming back to stay all night with +you.... Yes, I am," she said, with decision, as Ruth started to object. +"You do what I say." + +Hilda drove Ruth to her own house. "I've got to tell mother I'm going +to stay with you," she said. "Will you come in?" + +"No--please," Ruth answered. + +"I won't be but a jiffy, then." And Hilda left Ruth alone in the +electric. Alone! Suddenly Ruth was afraid of being alone. She was +thankful for Hilda, thankful Hilda was going to see her through. + +Hilda's father and mother were in the library. + +"Thought you were going some place with Bonbright and his wife," said +Malcolm Lightener. + +"Dad," said Hilda, with characteristic bluntness and lack of preface, +"they're in a dickens of a mess." + +"Bonbright?" + +"And Ruth." + +"Huh!..." Lightener's grunt seemed to say that it was nothing but what +he expected. "Well--go ahead." + +Hilda went ahead. Her father punctuated her story with sundry grunts, +her mother with exclamations of astonishment and sorrow. Hilda told the +whole story from the beginning, and when she was done she said: "There +it is. You wouldn't believe it. And, dad, Bonbright Foote's an angel. A +regular angel with wings." + +"Sometimes it's mighty hard to tell the difference between an angel and +a damn fool," said Lightener. "I suppose you want me to mix into it. +Well, I won't." + +"You haven't been asked," said Hilda. "I'm doing the mixing for this +family. I just came to tell you I am going to stay all night with +Ruth--and to warn you not to mix in. You'd do it with a sledge hammer. +I don't suppose it's any use telling you to keep your hands off--for +you won't. But I wish you would." + +"You'll get your wish," he said. + +"I won't," she answered. + +"Poor Bonbright," Mrs. Lightener said, "it does seem as if about every +misfortune had happened to him that can happen.... And he can't go to +his mother for sympathy." + +"He isn't the kind to go to anybody for sympathy," said Lightener. + +"Then don't you go to him with any," said Hilda. + +"I told you I wasn't going to have anything to do with it." + +"I haven't any patience with that girl," said Mrs. Lightener. "Such +notions! Wherever did she get them?... It's all a result of this Votes +for Women and clubs studying sociology and that. When I was a girl--" + +"You wore hoop skirts, mammy," said Hilda, "and if you weren't careful +when you sat down folks saw too much stocking.... Don't go blaming Ruth +too much. She thought she was doing something tremendous." + +"I calc'late she was," said Malcolm Lightener, "when you come to think +of it.... Too bad all cranks can't put the backbone they use in flub +dub to some decent use. I sort of admire 'em." + +"Father!" expostulated Mrs. Lightener. + +"You've got to. They back their game to the limit.... This little girl +did.... Tough on Bonbright, though." + +Hilda walked to the door; there she stopped, and said over her +shoulder: "Tell you what I think. I think she's mighty hard in love +with him--and doesn't know it." + +"Rats!" said her father, elegantly. + +At that moment Bonbright was writing a letter to his wife. It was a +difficult letter, which he had started many times, but had been unable +to begin as it should be begun.... He did not want to hurt her; he did +not want her to misunderstand; so he had to be very clear, and write +very carefully what was in his heart. It was a sore heart, but, +strangely, there was no bitterness in it toward Ruth. He found that +strange himself, and marveled at it. He did not want to betray his +misery to her--for that would hurt her, he knew. He did not want to +accuse. All he wanted to do was to do what he could to set matters +right for her. For him matters could never be set right again. It was +the end.... The way of its coming had been a shock, but that the end +had come was not such a shock. He perceived now that he had been +gradually preparing himself for it. He saw that the life they had been +living could have ended in nothing but a crash of happiness.... He +admitted now that he had been afraid of it almost since the +beginning.... + +"My Dear Ruth," he wrote. Then he stopped again, unable to find a +beginning. + +"I am writing because that will be easier for both of us," he +wrote--and then scratched it out, for it seemed to strike a personal +note. He did not want to be personal, to allow any emotion to creep in. + +"It is necessary to make some arrangements," he began once more. That +was better. Then, "I know you will not have gone away yet." That meant +away with Dulac, and she would so understand it. "I hope you will +consent to stay in the apartment. Everything there, of course, is +yours. It is not necessary for us to discuss money. I will attend to +that carefully. In this state a husband must be absent from his wife +for a year before she can be released from him. I ask you to be patient +for that time." That was all of it. There was nothing more to say. He +read it, and it sounded bald, cold, but he could not better it. + +At the end he wrote, "Yours sincerely," scratched it out, and wrote, +"Yours truly," scratched that out, and contented himself by affixing +merely his name. Then he copied the whole and dispatched it to his wife +by messenger. + +It arrived just after Ruth and Hilda returned. + +"It's from him," said Ruth. + +"Open it, silly, and see what he says." + +"I'm afraid...." + +Hilda stamped her foot. "Give it to me, then," she said. + +Ruth held the note to her jealously. She opened it slowly, fearfully, +and read the few words it contained. + +"Oh..." she said, and held it out to Hilda. She had seen nothing but +the bareness, the coldness of it. + +"It's perfect," said Hilda. "It's BONBRIGHT. He didn't slop over--he +was trying not to slop over, but there's love in every letter, and +heartache in every word of it.... And you couldn't love him. Wish _I_ +had the chance." + +"You--you will have," said Ruth, faintly. + +"If I do," said Hilda, shortly, "you bet I WON'T WASTE it." + + + + +CHAPTER XXVI + + +Hilda knew her father. He could not keep his hands off any matter that +interested him, and most matters did interest him. He had grown to have +an idea that he could take hold of almost any sort of tangle or +enterprise or concern and straighten it out. Probably it was because he +was so exceedingly human.... Therefore he was drawn irresistibly to his +purchasing department and to Bonbright Foote. + +"Young man," he said, gruffly, "what's this I hear?" + +Bonbright looked up inquiringly. + +"Come over here." Lightener jerked his head toward a private spot for +conversation. "About you and that little girl," he said. + +"I would rather not talk about it," said Bonbright, slowly. + +"But I'm going to talk about it. It's nonsense...." + +Bonbright looked very much like his father; tall, patrician, coldly +dignified. "Mr. Lightener," he said, "it is a thing we will not +mention--now or later." Seven generations contributed to that answer +and to the manner of it. It was final. It erected a barrier past which +even Malcolm Lightener could not force his way, and Lightener +recognized it. + +"Huh!..." he grunted, nonplused, made suddenly ill at ease by this boy. +For a moment he looked at Bonbright, curiously, appraisingly, then +turned on his heel and walked away. + +"Young spriggins put me in my place," he said to Mrs. Lightener that +evening. "I wish I knew how to do it--valuable. Made me feel like he +was a total stranger and I'd been caught in his hen house.... That +Bonbright Foote business isn't all bad by a darn sight." + +From that day Bonbright tried to work himself into forgetfulness. Work +was the only object and refuge of his life, and he gave himself to it +wholly. It was interesting work, and it kept him from too much thinking +about himself.... If a man has ability and applies himself as Bonbright +did, he will attract notice. In spite of his identity Bonbright did +attract notice from his immediate superiors. It was more difficult for +him, being who he was, to win commendation than it would have been for +an unmarked young man in the organization. That was because even the +fairest-minded man is afraid he will be tempted into showing +favoritism--and so withholds justice.... But he forced it from his +laborers--not caring in the least if he had it or not. And word of his +progress mounted to Malcolm Lightener. + +His craving for occupation was not satisfied with eight hours a day +spent in the purchasing department. It was his evenings that he feared, +so he filled them with study--study of the manufacture of the +automobile. Also he studied men. Every noon saw him in the little hash +house; every evening, when he could arrange it so, saw him with some +interested employee, boss, department boss, or somebody connected with +Malcolm Lightener's huge plant, pumping them for information and +cataloguing and storing it away in his mind. He tried to crowd Ruth out +of his mind by filling it so full of automobile there would be no room +for her.... But she hid in unexpected crannies, and stepped forth to +confront him disconcertingly. + +Gradually the laboring men changed their attitude toward him and +tolerated him. Some of them even liked him. He listened to their talk, +and tried to digest it. Much he saw to call for his sympathy, much that +they considered vital he could not agree with; he could not, even in a +majority of things, adapt his point of view to theirs. For he was +developing a point of view. + +On that evening when he had gone down to see what a mob was like he had +no point of view, only curiosity. He had leaned neither toward his +father's striking employees nor against them.... His attitude was much +the same now--with a better understanding of the problems involved. He +was not an ultracapitalist, like his father, nor a radical like +Dulac.... One thing he believed, and that was in the possibility of +capital and labor being brought to see through the same eyes. He +believed the strife between them, which had waged from time immemorial, +was not necessary, and could be eliminated.... But as yet he had no +cure for the trouble. + +He did not lean to socialism. He was farther away from that theory than +he was from his father's beliefs. He belonged by training and by +inheritance to the group of employers of labor and utilizers of +capital.... Against radicalism he had a bitter grievance. Radicalism +had given him his wife--for reasons which he heard expressed by +laboring men every day. He had no patience with fanaticism; on the +other hand, he had little patience with bigotry and intolerance. His +contact with the other side was bringing no danger of his conversion. +... But he was doing what he never could have done as heir apparent to +the Foote dynasty--he was asserting in thought his individuality and +forming individual opinions.... His education was being effectively +rounded out. + +News of the wrecking of Bonbright's domestic craft came to his father +quickly, carried, as might have been anticipated, by Hangar. + +"Your son is not living with his wife, Mr. Foote," Rangar announced. + +"Indeed!" said Mr. Foote, concealing both surprise and gratification +under his habitual mask of suave dignity. "That, I fear, was to have +been anticipated.... Have you the particulars?" + +"Only that she is living in their apartment, and he is boarding with +one of the men in his department at Lightener's." + +"Keep your eye on him, Rangar--keep your eye on him. And report." + +"Yes, sir," said Rangar, not himself pleased by the turn affairs had +taken, but resolved to have what benefit might lie thereabouts. His +resentment was still keen to keep him snapping at Bonbright's heels. + +The breach between himself and his son had been no light blow to Mr. +Foote. It threatened his line. What was to become of Bonbright Foote, +Incorporated, with no heir to hand the business over to when his hands +could drop it? He wanted his son, not as a father wants his son, but +because a Bonbright Foote VII was requisite. He had hoped for this +thing that had happened; indeed, had felt confident it would happen, +and that he would have Bonbright back unencumbered, purged of nonsense. + +He spoke of it with satisfaction to his wife when he returned to his +home that afternoon to take up the important matter of adding to the +manuscript of his philosophical biography of the Marquis Lafayette. + +"Perhaps I should see Bonbright," he suggested. + +"No," said Mrs. Foote. "He must come to you. He's got to have all his +wildness crushed out of him. He'll come. He must have had enough of it +before this." + +But Bonbright did not come, showed no signs of coming, and Mr. Foote +grew impatient, so impatient that he disregarded his wife's advice. He +could not bring his pride to allow him to seek out Bonbright in person, +but sent Rangar as his ambassador. + +Rangar found Bonbright in his room, reading a book devoted to the +ailments of the internal-combustion engine, and acquitted himself of +his mission with that degree of diplomacy which his desire for success +dictated. + +"Well?" said Bonbright, as the door opened to admit the ambassador. + +"Your father sent me, Mr. Foote." + +"Yes." + +"He has heard that--er--the marriage which caused +your--er--estrangement has ended as he feared." + +Bonbright arose slowly and walked toward Rangar, who appeared in two +minds whether to remain or to depart to other places. + +"Tell my father," Bonbright said, "that I can appreciate his +satisfaction. Tell him also that if he has anything to say to me to say +it in person.... That is all." + +"Your father--" + +"That is all," repeated Bonbright, and Rangar made up his mind. He +slammed the door after him. + +In the morning he reported to Mr. Foote, who compressed his lips at the +recitation of his son's words. Let his son come to him, then, when he +had eaten his fill of husks. + +But Bonbright did not come. After several days had elapsed Mr. Foote +considered his duty, and interpreted it to impel him to call in person +upon his son--clothed in dignity and with the demeanor of outraged +parenthood. Mrs. Foote was not privy to the project. + +He met his son descending the steps of the house where he boarded. +Bonbright could not have evaded his father if he would. He stopped and +waited for his father to speak. + +"I have come to talk to you, Bonbright," he said, severely. + +"Very well, sir," Bonbright said. + +"I have come, not from inclination or delight in an interview which +must be distasteful to both of us, but because I believe it my duty to +point out the thanklessness of your conduct and to see if you cannot be +brought to a proper sense of your obligations." + +"Our ideas of my obligations are rather far apart, sir." + +"They shouldn't be. You're a mere boy--my son. You should derive your +ideas from me until you are capable of formulating correct ideas +yourself." + +"I'm afraid we can never agree on that," said Bonbright, patiently. + +"Your marriage has ended the way such marriages are fated to end," said +Mr. Foote. + +"We will not discuss that, please," said Bonbright. + +"You made your own bed--" + +"And am not complaining about the discomfort of it." + +"It is essential that you return to your duty. Your unpleasant +experience is over. You are old enough to understand your position as +my son, and the responsibilities and duties of it. You are Bonbright +Foote VII and the future head of our family. I am being very patient +and lenient with you.... You have defied me openly, but I am willing to +overlook that, and I am sure your mother will overlook your conduct +toward her, providing you return to your place in a frame of mind +proper for my son. I think you understand what that is." + +"Perfectly, sir. It means to be jammed back in a mold that will turn me +out to the family pattern. It means a willingness to give up thinking +for myself and accept YOUR thoughts and shape my life by them. It means +being a figurehead as long as you live and a replica of yourself when +you are gone. That's it, isn't it?" + +"That is it," said Mr. Foote, shortly. "You are rid of that woman. ... +I am willing to give you another chance." + +Bonbright's hold upon himself was firm. "If you wish to continue this +conversation you will not speak in that way of my wife. Let me make +that very clear.... As to coming back to the office--there is nothing +under heaven that would bring me back to what I escaped from. +Nothing.... If I were ever to come it would have to be on terms of my +own making, and you would never agree to them. And whatever terms you +agreed to I should not come until you and mother--both of you--went to +my wife and made the most complete apology for the thing you did to her +in the theater that night.... I am not thinking of myself. I am +thinking of her. My mother and father passed my wife and myself on our +wedding night, in a public place, and refused to recognize us.... It +was barbarous." Bonbright's voice quivered a trifle, but he held +himself well in hand. "That apology must come before anything else. +After you have made it, we will discuss terms." + +"You--you--" Mr. Foote was perilously close to losing his dignity. + +"No," said Bonbright; "on second thought, we will not discuss terms. +You can have my final reply now.... You have nothing to give me that +will take the place of what I have now. I will not come back to you. +Please understand that this is final." + +Mr. Foote was speechless. It was moments before he could speak; then it +was to say, in a voice that trembled with rage: "In the morning I shall +make my will--and your name will not appear in it except as a renegade +son whom I have disowned..., Probably you regarded the property as +under entail and that it would come to you after me.... For six +generations it has gone from father to son. You shall never touch a +penny of it." + +"I prefer it that way, sir." + +Mr. Foote glared at his son in quite unrestrained, uncultured rage, +and, whirling on his heel, strode furiously away. Bonbright looked +after him curiously. + +"I wonder how the thing missed out with me," he thought. "It worked +perfectly six generations--and then went all to smash with me.... +Probably I'd have been a lot happier...." + +It had been a month since he saw Ruth. He had not wanted to see her; +the thought of seeing her had been unbearable. But suddenly he felt as +if he must see her--have a glimpse of her. He must see how she looked, +if she had changed, if she were well.... He knew it would bring +refreshed suffering. It would let back all he had rigidly schooled +himself to shut out--but he must see her. + +He set his will against it and resolutely walked away from the +direction in which her apartment lay, but the thing was too strong for +him. As a man surrenders to a craving which he knows will destroy him, +yet feels a relief at the surrender, he turned abruptly and walked the +other way. + +The apartment in which they had lived was on the second floor of a +small apartment house. He passed it on the opposite side of the street, +looking covertly upward at the windows. There was a light within. She +was there, but invisible. Only if she should step near the window could +he see her.... Again and again he passed, but she did not appear. +Finally he settled himself guiltily in the shadows, where he could +watch those windows, and waited--just for that distant sight of her. +There was a lamp on the table before the window. Before she retired she +would have to come to shut it off.... He waited for that. He would then +see her for a second, perhaps. + +At last she came, and stood an instant in the window--just a blur, with +the light behind her, no feature distinguishable, yet it was her--her. +"Ruth..." he whispered, "Ruth...." Then she drew down the shade and +extinguished the light. + +For a moment he stood there, hands opened as if he would have stretched +them out toward her. Then he turned and walked heavily away. He had +seen her, but It had not added to his happiness. He had seen her +because he must see her.... And by that he knew he must see her again +and again and again. He knew it. He knew he would stand there in the +shadows on innumerable nights, watching for that one brief second of +her presence.... And she loved another man. In a year she would be free +to marry Dulac! + +He returned to his room and to his book on the ailments of +internal-combustion engines; but it was not their diagrams his eyes +saw, but only a featureless blur that represented a girl standing in an +upper window---forever beyond his reach.... + + + + +CHAPTER XXVII + + +Malcolm Lightener's plant, huge as it was, could not meet the demands +of the public for the car he manufactured. Orders outran production. +New buildings had been under construction, but before they were +completed and equipped their added production was eaten up and the +factory was no nearer to keeping supply abreast with demand than it had +been in the beginning. + +Lightener was forced to make contracts with other firms for parts of +his cars. From one plant he contracted for bodies, from another for +wheels. He urged Bonbright Foote, Incorporated, to increase their +production of axles by ten thousand a year--and still dealers in all +parts of the country wrote and telephoned and telegraphed for more +cars--more cars. + +Hitherto Lightener had made his own engines complete. From outside +manufactories he could obtain the other essential parts, but his own +production of engines held him back. The only solution for the present +was to find some one to make engines to his specifications, and he +turned to Bonbright Foote, Incorporated. Whatever might be said of the +Foote methods, their antiquity, their lack of modern efficiency, they +turned out work whose quality none might challenge--and Malcolm +Lightener looked first to quality. + +He reached his determination at noon, while he was eating his luncheon, +and to Mrs. Lightener's amazement sprang up from the table and lunged +out of the room without so much as a glance at her or a word of +good-by. In some men of affairs this might not be remarkable, but in +Malcolm Lightener it was remarkable. Granite he might be; crude in his +manner, perhaps, more dynamic than comfortable, but in all the years of +his married life he had never left the house without kissing his wife +good-by. + +He drove his runabout recklessly to his office, rushed into the +engineering department, and snatched certain blue prints and +specifications from the files. He knew costs down to the last bolt or +washer on the machine he made, and it was the work of minutes only to +determine what price he could afford to pay for the engines he wanted. + +His runabout carried him to the entrance to Bonbright Foote, +Incorporated, and he hurried up the stairs to the office. + +"Mr. Foote in?" he snapped. + +"Just returned, Mr. Lightener." + +"Want to see him--right off--quick." + +"Yes, sir." + +The girl at the switchboard called Mr. Foote and informed him. + +"He says to step right in, sir," she said, and before she was done +speaking Lightener was on his way down the corridor. + +Mr. Foote sat coldly behind his desk. He held no kindness for Malcolm +Lightener, for Lightener had befriended Bonbright in his recalcitrancy. +Lightener had made it possible for the boy to defy his father. +Lightener's wife and daughter had openly waged society war against his +wife in behalf of his son's wife.... But Mr. Foote was not the man to +throw away an enormous and profitable business because of a personal +grudge. + +Lightener paused for no preliminaries. + +"Foote," he said, "I want ten thousand engines complete. You can make +'em. You've got room to expand, and I can give you approximate figures +on the costs. You make good axles and you can make good engines. What +d'you think about it?" + +Mr. Foote shrugged his shoulders. "It doesn't attract me." + +"Huh!... You can have that plant up in six months. I'll give you a +contract for five years. Two years' profits will pay for the plant. +Don't know what your profits are now, but this ought to double them. +... Doesn't half a million a year extra profit make you think of +anything?" + +"Mr. Lightener, this business was originally a machine shop. It has +grown and developed since the first Bonbright Foote founded it. I am +the first to deviate in any measure from the original plan, and I have +done so with doubt and reluctancy. I have seen with some regret the +manufacturing of axles overshadow the original business--though it has +been profitable, I admit. But I shall go no farther. I am not sure my +father and my grandfather would approve of what I have done. I know +they would not approve of other changes.... More money does not attract +me. This plant is making enough for me. What I want is more leisure. I +wish more time to devote to a certain literary labor upon which I have +been engaged..." + +"Literary flub-dub," said Lightener. "I'm offering you half a million a +year on a silver platter." + +"I don't want it, sir.... I am not a young man. I have not been in the +best of health--owing, perhaps, to worries which I should not have been +compelled to bear.... I am childless. With me Bonbright Foote, +Incorporated, comes to an end. Upon my death these mills close, the +business is to be liquidated and discontinued. Do I make myself +clear?... I am not interested in your engines." + +"What's that you said?" Lightener asked. "Childless? Wind up this +business? You're crazy, man." + +"I had a son, but I have one no longer.... In some measure I hold you +responsible for that. You have taken sides with a disobedient son +against his father..." + +"And you've treated a mighty fine son like a dog," said Lightener, +harshly. + +"I have done my duty.... I do not care to discuss it with you. The fact +I want to impress is that my family becomes extinct upon my death. My +wife will be more than amply provided for. I may live ten years or +twenty years--but I shall live them in such comfort as I can obtain.... +Is there anything else you wish to talk to me about?" + +It was a dismissal, and Malcolm Lightener was not used to being +dismissed like a troublesome book agent. + +"Yes," he said, getting to his feet. "There is something, and I'll be +short and sweet about it. You have a son, and if I'm any judge, he's +about four times the man his father is. You don't want him!... Well, I +do. I want him in my business, and he won't lose such a lot by the +change. It's your ledger that shows the loss, and don't you forget it. +You did what you could to warp him out of shape--and because he +wouldn't be warped you kicked him out. Maybe the family ends with you, +but a new Foote family begins with him, and it won't be any +cut-and-dried, ancestor-ridden outfit, either. One generation of his +kind will be worth more to this country than the whole six of yours.... +I hope you live to see it." + +Lightener stuffed his blue prints and specifications into his pocket +and left the office truculently. Once more in his own office he +summoned a boy. + +"Fetch Mr. Foote from the purchasing department," he said. + +Malcolm Lightener was acting on impulse again. He had no clear idea why +he had sent for Bonbright, nor just what he should say when the boy +came--but he wanted to talk to him. Lightener was angry--angry because +Bonbright's father had rejected his proposition to manufacture engines; +more angry at the way Mr. Foote had spoken concerning his son. In the +back of Lightener's mind was the thought that he would show a Foote.... +Just what he would show him was not determined. + +Bonbright came in. He was not the Bonbright of six months before. The +boy in him was gone, never to return. He had lost none of his old look +of breeding, of refinement, of blood--but he had lost that air which +rich young men bear about with them. It is an air, not of carelessness, +precisely, but of absence of care; a sort of nonchalance, bred of lack +of responsibilities and of definite ambitions. It is an air that makes +one think of them that they would fit better into the scenery of a +country club or a game of golf than into an office where men strain +their intelligence and their bodies to attain important aims. This was +gone with his boyishness. In its place was an alertness, an awakeness, +born of an interest in affairs. His eyes were the eyes of a man who +concentrated much, and was keenly interested in the object of his +concentration. His movements were quicker. He seemed to see and +catalogue more of what was going on about him. If one had seen him then +for the first time, the impression received would have been that here +was a very busy young man who was worth watching. There was something +aggressive about him. He looked competent. + +One could not question that his new life had improved him, but it had +not made him happy. It would be absurd to say that he looked sad. A boy +of his age cannot look sad continually, unless sadness is a pose with +him, which he is enjoying very much indeed. But Bonbright was no +poser.... And he did not look happy. There were even times when there +was a worn, haggard look about his eyes when he came down in the +morning. This was when he had allowed himself to think too much. + +"Just came from your father's office," said Lightener. "I offered him a +chance to clean up half a million a year--and he turned it down... +because his great-grandfather might not like it." + +Bonbright understood perfectly. He knew how his father would do such a +thing. Lightener's statement seemed to call for no reply, so he made +none. + +"I wanted to look at you," said Lightener, "to make sure you aren't +anything like him.... But you ARE like him. You stand like him and you +look like him--only you don't. If I thought you'd grow to think the way +he does I'd send you to the cashier for your pay, in a second. But I +don't believe it." He scowled at Bonbright. "No, by Jove! you don't +LOOK it." + +"I don't think father and I are much alike," said Bonbright, slowly. + +Lightener switched the subject. "You ought to know considerable about +this business. Been here six months. From what I hear you've picked up +quite a lot outside of office hours." + +"I've been studying hard. It gave me something to do." + +"Darn it all, why couldn't you and Hilda have taken to each other!..." +Lightener stopped, and stared at his desk. Perhaps it was not too late +yet. Bonbright's marriage had been no success; Bonbright was young; and +it was not thinkable that he would not recover from that wound in time +to marry again. Of course he would.... Then why should he not marry +Hilda? Not the least reason in the world. In the affair Bonbright was +guiltless--merely unfortunate. The thing was worth bearing in mind. +Perhaps something might be done; at any rate, he would talk it over +with his wife. + +"I want you to put in another six months learning this business," he +said. "If you pan out I'll have a job for you.... I haven't heard of +your falling down any place yet.... Know what I told your father? He +said the Foote family ended with him--became extinct. Well, I said the +family just started with you, and that one generation of your kind was +worth the whole six of his. And I hoped he lived to see it." + +"Somehow I can't feel very hard toward father, Mr. Lightener. Sometimes +I'm--sorry for him. To him it's as bad as if I'd been born with a +hunchback. Worse, maybe, because, hunchback and all, I might have been +the sort he wanted.... He doesn't understand, that's it. I can +understand him--so I don't have any hard feelings-except on HER +account.... He said the family was extinct?" + +"Yes." + +"I guess it is," said Bonbright. "The family, as he thought of it, +meant something that went on and on as he and his ancestors went.... +Yes, it's extinct. I don't know why I was different from them, but I +was. Always. I'm glad." + +"He must be worth five millions, anyhow, maybe more." + +"I don't know," said Bonbright. + +"You won't get a cent of it, from what he says." + +"I suppose not.... No, I won't get a cent." + +"You don't make much fuss about it." + +"I had that out with myself six months ago. It was hard to give it +up.... Nobody wants to be poor when he can be rich. If it hadn't been +for Ruth I suppose I should have been there yet--pretty well made over +to fit by this time." + +As Bonbright and Malcolm Lightener talked, Mr. Foote sat in his office, +his head upon his desk, one arm stretched out across the blotter, the +other shielding his face. He did not move.... + +After Malcolm Lightener left the room he had sat for a time staring at +the door. He did not feel well. He was troubled. None but himself knew +how deep was his disappointment, his bitterness, because of his son's +failure to stand true to his type. It was not the grief of a father at +the loss of a son; it was the suffering of a man whose supreme motive +is the carrying on of family and of family traditions. He had just told +Lightener the family became extinct with his passing. Now he reaffirmed +it, and, reaffirming it, he felt the agony of ultimate affliction. + +Six generations the family and the family's business had endured +honorably according to its beliefs and tenets; with the sixth +generation it ended because of the way-wardness of a boy--his boy! + +Mr. Foote felt a trifle dizzy, a bit oppressed. He leaned back in his +chair and shut his eyes. He would go home for the day as soon as the +dizziness passed, he said to himself.... It passed. He opened his eyes +and leaned toward his desk, but he stopped suddenly, his right hand +flying to his breast. There was a sudden pain there; such a pain as he +had never experienced before. It was near his heart. With each +heartbeat there came a twisting stab of agony. Presently the spasm +passed, and he sank back, pale, shaking, his forehead damp with clammy +moisture.... He tried to pull himself together. Perhaps it would be +best to summon some one, but he did not want to do that. To have an +employee find him so would be an invasion of his dignity. Nobody must +see him. Nobody must know about this.... + +The spasm returned-departed again, leaving him gasping for breath. ... +It would come again. Something told him it would come again-once more. +He KNEW.... A third time it would come, but never again. + +He forced himself to rise. He would meet it standing. For the honor of +the Foote family he would meet it on his feet, looking into its eyes. +He would not shrink and cringe from it, but would face it with dignity +as a Foote should face it, uttering no cry of pain or fear. It was a +dignified moment, the most dignified and awful of his life. ... Five +generations were looking on to see how he met it, and he was conscious +of their eyes. He stared before him with level eyes, forcing a smile, +and waited the seconds there remained to wait. + +It was coming. He could feel its first approach, and drew himself up to +the fullness of his slender height. Never had he looked so much a Foote +as in that instant, never had he so nearly approached the ideal he had +set for himself--for he knew. + +The spasm came, but it tore no cry from him. He stood erect, with eyes +that stared straight before him fearlessly until they became sightless. +He held his head erect proudly.... Then he sighed, relaxed into his +chair, and lay across his desk, one arm outstretched, the other +protecting his face.... + +The telephone on Malcolm Lightener's desk rang. + +"Hello!" said Lightener. "What is it? Who?... Yes, he's right here." He +looked up to Bonbright. "Somebody wants to speak to you." + +Bonbright stepped to the instrument. "Yes," he said, "this is Bonbright +Foote.... Who is it? Rangar?..." Suddenly he turned about and faced +Malcolm Lightener blankly. He fumbled with the receiver for its hook. +"My father is dead," he said, in a hushed voice. "They just found +him--at his desk...." + + + + +CHAPTER XXVIII + + +Ruth had continued to live in the apartment. It had not been her +intention to do so. From the moment of reading Bonbright's succinct +note she was determined to go back to the little cottage and to her +mother. But she put it off for a day, then for another day, and days +grew into weeks and months. "To-morrow I'll move," she told herself +each night, but next day she was no nearer to uprooting herself than +she had been the day before. + +She gave herself no reasons for remaining. If she had been asked for a +reason she might have said it was because Dulac still boarded with her +mother. He had not left the city with the breaking of the strike, but +had remained. He had remained because he had asked the union he +represented to let him remain and had been able to show them reasons +for granting his request. He wanted to stay on the ground to work +quietly underground, undoing the harm that had been done by the strike; +quietly proselyting, preaching his gospel, gaining strength day by day, +until he should have reared an organization capable of striking again. +The courage of the man was unquenchable.... And he wanted to be near +Ruth. Just as he had set his will to force Bonbright Foote, +Incorporated, to bow to the will of the men, so he had set his will to +force Ruth to bow to his will.... So he remained and labored. + +But his presence at her mother's was not the real reason that impelled +Ruth to continue in the home Bonbright had made for her. It was +something more intangible. She found the thought of leaving that spot +unendurable, but she did not, dared not, seek in her heart for what +made it unendurable. + +For a week she scarcely ventured outside the door; then the loneliness, +the lack of occupation, drove her out. She must be busy, for when she +sat idly in a room her thoughts became torture. There were many sides +to her affliction. First in her mind she placed the failure of her +great project. She had wrecked her life for it without accomplishment. +Second in the rank of her griefs stood the fact that she had been on +the point of giving herself to Dulac. She would have gone with him, +disregarding convention, breaking her vows of marriage. For that she +despised herself... despised herself the more because she knew now that +she did not love Dulac, that she had never loved Dulac. That discovery +had shocked and shaken her, and when she thought of what might have +happened if she had gone with him a numbness of horror crept over her, +leaving her cold and trembling. ... She would have gone, and she did +not love him. She would not have known she did not love him until it +was too late to draw back... and then she would have lived, but her +soul would have died! + +She accused herself bitterly for mistaking glamour for love. She knew +now that Dulac had called from her nothing deeper than a foolish, +girlish fascination. His personality, his work, his enthusiasm had +enmeshed her, blinded her--and she had mistaken her feelings for love! +Of this she was certain.... There were moments when she felt she must +tell Bonbright. Once she actually took writing materials to do so, but +she did not tell him.... She wanted him to know, because, she thought, +it would be a sort of vindication in his eyes. But she was wrong. She +wanted him to know for quite another reason than that. + +Third in the order of her griefs was the consciousness that she had +caused Bonbright grief. She dealt ungently with herself because of it, +for Bonbright had not deserved it at her hands. She could appreciate +how good he had been to her, how solicitous, how patient, how tender. +If a man ever deserved well of a woman, he deserved it. She told +herself that a hundred times daily. She remembered small +thoughtfulnesses which had been a part of his daily conduct to her. She +recalled small forbearances. She pictured to herself the life they had +lived together, and saw how it was only the character of her husband +that had made it possible at all.... And in the end he had not uttered +one word of censure; had not even looked at her with just anger.... +There had been no pretense about him, no labored effort to be kind. He +had simply been himself. + +These were her thoughts; this is how she remembered him.... + +The house was unbearably lonely. As evening approached she found +herself more than once listening for Bonbright's step on the stairs and +his hand on the door.... At such times she cried. She puzzled herself. +She did not understand why she should be so lonely, nor why the +expectation of Bonbright's step--with quick awakening to the knowledge +that no foot of his would ever sound at her door again--should bring +her tears.... She knew she should have been glad, relieved. With +Bonbright she had lived in daily dread. She had not loved him, and the +fear that his restraint would break, that he would force his love upon +her, had made her days a ghastly dream.... She should be crying out +with the joy and relief of his removal. But she felt no relief, felt no +joy.... She could not understand it. + +If Hilda Lightener, who came often and stayed long, had asked her if +she missed Bonbright or were lonely without him, she would have denied +it hotly. But Hilda did not ask.... Ruth did not ask that question of +herself. She knew she was lonely, miserable, and she thought she knew +why--but Bonbright's absence had nothing to do with it. + +Hilda watched, she did not talk about Bonbright, for she saw her task +was to help Ruth over these first few days. Her suspicions were her +own, but, being a woman, she understood the baffling psychology of +another woman and what harm a premature word might work.... If the +thing she believed were true, then time would bring its realization to +Ruth. Ruth must discover the truth for herself.... + +"I can't stand this," Ruth said one evening. "I can't bear to stay here +alone in these rooms. If there were work enough to keep me busy--but +there's nothing." + +"If you'd only go the places I ask you to," said Hilda. + +"I don't want to meet people--your sort of people. They must know what +has happened.... I couldn't have them looking at me with their catty, +curious eyes." + +"Most of them would be very kind," Hilda said. + +"No.... I'm going to work. I'm going to find a place and work...." + +"But--" Hilda wondered what Bonbright would think of that. She imagined +he would not like it. + +"I know what you were going to say. He wouldn't want me to. Maybe he +wouldn't--but if he knew he'd let me do it. I tell you I've got to, +Hilda." + +"You've got to decide for yourself," Hilda admitted, so Ruth became a +job hunter, and because intelligent stenographers are by no means as +plentiful as daisies in a July field, she was not long in finding +employment.... From that day life was easier. She found her wages were +ample to support herself and pay the rent of her apartment. Ample, in +that they sufficed. There was no surplus. So she folded and put away +the weekly checks she received from Bonbright. She did not send them +back to him because, to her mind, that would have been a weekly slap in +his face. But she would not cash them. There was a difference to her; +probably there was a real difference. + +Of a Sunday Ruth often went driving with Hilda, and Hilda noticed how +closely her companion watched the sidewalks, how she scrutinized the +passing crowds. It was as though Ruth were trying to catch sight of +somebody.... While daylight lasted Hilda saw that Ruth was drawn to her +windows to sit looking down at the street. Once Hilda ventured +dangerously. + +"Why do you always sit there watching folks go by?" she asked. + +Ruth turned and looked at her strangely. "I--why, I don't know," she +said. + +Of herself Ruth rarely mentioned Bonbright; never unless in some +recollection of him, or if Hilda meddled with some portion of the +household that had been peculiarly Bonbright's. As, for instance: + +"Why don't you move that leather chair out of the other bedroom?" Hilda +asked. "It's doing no good there and it looks mighty comfortable." + +"That was HIS chair," Ruth said, quickly. "He used to sit there and +read after--after I had gone to bed." + +Once Ruth asked for news of Bonbright. After that Hilda brought her +news voluntarily. Not too frequently, but often enough according to her +notion. Betweentimes she gave Ruth plenty of time to wonder what was +happening to her husband. Ruth knew Hilda saw him often. She wondered +if they talked about her, and what they said, but that she never asked, +nor did Hilda refer to such conversations. Indeed, these were few and +sparing, for Bonbright could not be made to talk about his wife--even +to her. But she gave Bonbright news of Ruth just as she gave Ruth news +of Bonbright. + +Sometimes Hilda tormented Ruth with set purpose. + +"Bonbright looks mighty thin," she said. "I think he's working too +hard. If he keeps it up he'll make himself sick." + +"Oh..." said Ruth--nothing more, but for the rest of that Sunday she +was quiet--very quiet. + +Once Hilda found Ruth in a passion of tears, and when she sought the +reason she learned that Ruth had met Dulac on the street, face to face, +and that he had spoken to her. He had told Ruth that he was staying in +the city because of her; that he would not go without her. ... He had +been careless of listening ears, not concealing his emotions. + +"Well, he didn't hurt you, did he?" + +"No," said Ruth. + +"You weren't afraid of him?" + +"No." + +"You--didn't want to go away with him?" + +"No.... No...." + +"Then what are you making all the fuss about? He can't carry you off" + +'HE might have seen us together," said Ruth. "And--and it made +me--remember--that horrid afternoon." + +"What if Bonbright did see you together? Don't you suppose Bonbright +thinks you are seeing him? Of course he does. What else would he think? +Naturally he supposes you are going to have your divorce when the year +is up, and marry Mr. Dulac." Hilda was merciless. + +"Does he think that? Are you sure?" + +Hilda shrugged her shoulders. + +"He mustn't think it," Ruth said, affrightedly. "Why, he--If he thought +that--" + +"If he thought that--what?" + +Ruth bit her lips and turned away. "Nothing," she said. Then: "Can't +you let him know?... Not tell him, you know, but--sort of let him +understand." + +"If I can see a good chance," Hilda said; but in her mind was the +resolution that she would never see the chance. + +"Does he--seem cheerful?" Ruth asked. "It's been quite a long time +now--months.... He--must have gotten over--caring for me now. Do you +think so?" Her voice was anxious, pleading. + +Hilda could not hold out against that appeal. "No, silly, he hasn't. He +isn't that sort.... It's too bad." + +"Yes--it's too bad," said Ruth, but it was not sympathy that put the +tiny thrill into her voice. + +"He's just a boy.... He can't go on all his life loving a girl that +doesn't want him. Some day he's going to fall in love again. It's +natural he should." + +"Has he--Do you think--" + +"No, I haven't seen any signs of it yet.... And I'd be jealous if he +did. I think I could manage to fall in love with him myself if--" + +"--he wasn't tied to me," interrupted Ruth, with a little whimper. +"I--I wish he knew--about Mr. Dulac.... He wouldn't think so--hard of +me, maybe... if he knew I didn't--never did--love Mr. Dulac...." + +"The only thing that would make any difference to him would be to know +that you loved him," said Hilda. + +Ruth had no answer, but she was saying to herself, with a sort of +secret surprise: "If I loved him.... If I loved him...." Presently she +spoke aloud: "You won't be angry with me, Hilda?... You won't +misunderstand, but--but won't you please--go away?... Please.... I--I +don't want to see anybody. I want to be alone." + +"Well, of all things!" said Hilda. But she was not offended. Her +resemblance to her father was very faint indeed, at that moment. She +looked more like her mother, softer, more motherly. She put on her hat +and went away quietly. "Poor Bonbright!" she was thinking. Then: "It's +come to her.... She's got a hint of it. It will come now with a +rush...." + +Ruth sat in her chair without movement. "If I loved him..." she said, +aloud, and then repeated it, "... loved him...." She was questioning +herself now, asking herself the meaning of things, of why she had been +lonely, of why she had sat in her window peering down into the +street--and she found the answer. As Hilda had said in her thoughts, it +was coming with a rush.... She was frightened by it, dared not admit +it.... She dared not admit that the biggest, weightiest of her woes was +that she no longer had Bonbright with her; that she was lonesome for +him; that her heart had been crying out for him; that she loved him! +She dared not admit that. It would be too bitter, too ironically +bitter.... If she loved him now she had loved him then! Was her life to +be filled with such ironies--? Was she forever to eat of Dead Sea fruit? + +Did she love Bonbright? At last she dared to put the question +squarely.... Her answer came quickly. "Oh, I do... I do!" she cried, +aloud. "I love him...." A surge of happiness welled up from her heart +at the words. "I love him," she repeated, to hear the sound of them +again. + +The happiness was of short life. "I love him--but it's too late.... +It's always too late," she sobbed. "I've lost him.... He's gone. ..." + +The girl who could give herself to a man she did not love for the Cause +was not weak; she did not lack resolution, nor did she lack the +sublimity of soul which is the heritage of women. She had lost her +happiness; she had wrecked her life, and until this moment there seemed +no possibility of recovering anything from the wreckage.... But she +loved.... There was a foundation to build from. If she had been weak, a +waverer, no structure could have risen on the foundation; it must have +lain futile, accusing. But there was strength in her, humility, a will +that would dare much, suffer much, to fight its way to peace. + +"If he loves me still," she thought; and there hope was born. + +"If I go to him.... If I tell him--everything?" she asked herself, and +in asking made her resolution. She would venture, she would dare, for +her happiness and for his. She would go, and she would say: "Bonbright, +I love you.... I have never loved anybody but you.... You must believe +me." He would believe her, she knew. There was no reason why he should +not believe her. There was nothing for her to gain now by another lie. +"I'll make him believe," she said, and smiled and cried and smiled +again. "Hilda will tell me where he lives and I'll go to him--now...." + +At that instant Hilda was coming to her, was on the stairs, and Hilda +looked grave, troubled. She walked slowly up the stairs and rapped on +the door. "Ruth," she called, "it's Hilda.... May I come in now?" + +Ruth ran to the door and threw it open. "Come in.... Come in." Her +voice was a song. "Oh, Hilda..." + +"Honey," said Hilda, holding her at arm's length, '-his father is dead. +They found him dead just after noon...." + +"Oh!..." said Ruth. It was an instant before the full significance of +this news was shown to her. Then she clutched Hilda with +terror-stricken fingers. "No.... No!..." she cried. "It can't be.... It +mustn't be...." + +"Why--what is it? I--I didn't think you'd take it like this...." + +"I love him.... I love Bonbright," Ruth said, in a blank, dead voice. +"I was going to him.... I was going to tell him... and he would have +believed. But now---he wouldn't believe. He would think I came--because +his father was dead--because he--he was what I thought he was when I +married him.... Don't you see? He'd think I was coming to him for the +same reason.... He'd think I was willing to give myself to him--for +that...." + +Hilda took the slight form in her arms and rocked her to and fro, while +she thought.... "Yes," she said, sorrowfully, "you can't go to him +now.... It would look--oh, why couldn't his father have made a will, as +he was going to?... If he'd left his old money to charity or +something.... We thought he had.... But there has been no will. +Everything is Bonbright's...." + +"I'm always--too--late..." Ruth said, quietly. + + + + +CHAPTER XXIX + + +Bonbright was in his own home again--in the house that had been his +father's, and that was now his. He stood in the room that had been his +since babyhood. He had not thought to stand there again, nor did he +know that the room and the house were his own. He had come from the +shops but a half hour before; had come from that room where his father +lay across his desk, one arm outstretched, the other shielding his +face. There had been no time to think then; no time to realize. ... +What thought had come to him was one of wonder that the death of his +father could mean so little to him. Shock he felt, but not grief. He +had not loved his father. Yet a father is a vital thing in a son's +life. Bonbright felt this. He knew that the departing of a father +should stand as one of the milestones of life, marking a great change. +It marked no change for him. Everything would go on as it had +gone--even on the material side. It was inevitable that he should +remember his father's threat to disinherit him. Now the thing had +come--and it made little difference, for Bonbright had laid out his +life along lines of his own.... His father would be carried to the +grave, would disappear from the scene--that was all. + +He saw that the things were done which had to be done, and went home to +his mother, dreading the meeting. He need not have dreaded it, for she +met him with no signs of grief. If she felt grief she hid it well. She +was calm, stately, grave--but her eyes were not red with weeping nor +was her face drawn with woe. He wondered if his father meant as little +to his father's wife as it did to his father's son. It seemed so. There +had been no affectionate passage between Bonbright and his mother. She +had not unbent to him. He had hardly expected her to, though he had +been prepared to respond.... + +Now he was in his room with time to think--and there was strangely +little to think of. He had covered the ground already. His father was +dead. When Bonbright uttered that sentence he had covered the episode +completely. That was it--it was an EPISODE. + +A servant came to the door. + +"Mr. Richmond wishes to speak with you on the phone, Mr. Bonbright," +the man said, and Bonbright walked to the instrument. Richmond had been +his father's counsel for many years. + +"Bonbright?" asked Mr. Richmond. + +"Yes." + +"I have just had the news. I am shocked. It is a terrible thing." + +"Yes," said Bonbright. + +"I will come up at once--if you can see me. The death of a man like +your father entails certain consequences which cannot be considered too +soon. May I come?" + +"If you think it is necessary," said Bonbright. + +"It is necessary," said Mr. Richmond. + +In twenty minutes Richmond was announced and Bonbright went to meet him +in the library. Richmond extended his hand with the appropriate bearing +for such an occasion. His handshake was a perfect thing, studied, +rehearsed, just as all his life was studied and rehearsed. He had in +stock a manner and a handshake and a demeanor which could be instantly +taken off the shelf and used for any situation which might arise. +Richmond was a ready man, an able man. On the whole, he was a good man, +as men go, but cut and dried. + +"Your father was a notable man," he declared. "He will be missed." + +Bonbright bowed. + +"There will be a great deal for you to look after," said the lawyer, +"so I will be brief. The mass of detail can wait--until +after--er--until you have more leisure." + +"I think, Mr. Richmond, it is my mother you wish to see, not myself. I +thought you would understand my position. I am surprised that you do +not, since you have been so close to my father.... My father and I did +not agree on matters which both of us considered vital. There were +differences which could not be abridged. So I am here merely as his +son, not as his successor in any way." + +"I don't understand." + +"My father," said Bonbright, with a trace of impatience, "disowned me, +and--disinherited, I believe, is the word--disinherited me." + +"Oh no! No!... Indeed no! You are laboring under a misapprehension. ... +You are mistaken. I am glad to be able to relieve your mind on that +point. Nothing of the sort was done. I am in a position to know. ... I +will admit your father discussed such action, but the matter went no +farther. Perhaps it was his intention to do as you say, but he put it +off.... He seemed to have a prejudice against making a will. As a +matter of fact, he died intestate..." + +"You mean--" + +"I mean that your father's wealth--and it was considerable, sir--will +be disposed of according to the statutes of Descent and Distribution. +In other words, having failed to dispose of his property by testament, +the law directs its disposition. With the exception of certain dower +rights the whole vests in yourself." + +Here was something to think of. Here was a new and astounding set of +circumstances to which he must adapt himself.... He experienced no leap +of exultation. The news left him cold. Queerly, his thoughts in that +moment were of Ruth and of her great plan. + +"If she had waited..." he thought. + +No, he was glad she had not waited. He did not want her that way.... It +was not her he wanted, but her love. He thought bitterly that he would +willingly exchange all that had become his for that one possession. He +could have anything--everything--he wanted now but that.... + +"I am glad to be able to give you such news," said Mr. Richmond. + +"I was thinking of something else," said Bonbright. + +Richmond looked at the young man obliquely. He had heard that Bonbright +was queer. This rumor seemed not without foundation. Richmond could not +comprehend how a young man could think of anything else when he had +just learned that he was several tunes a millionaire. + +"Sit down," said Bonbright. "This, of course, makes a difference." + +Richmond seated himself, and drew documents from his green bag. For +half an hour he discussed the legal aspects of the situation and +explained to Bonbright what steps must be taken at once. + +"I think that is all that will be necessary to-day," he said, finally. + +"Very well.... There is no reason why affairs may not go on for a +couple of days as they are--as if father were alive?" + +"No, I see no reason why they should not." + +"Very well, then.... Will you see to it? The--the funeral will be on +Saturday. Monday I shall be in the office." + +"I hope you will call upon me for any assistance or advice you find +necessary.... Or for any service of whatsoever nature.... Good +afternoon.... Will you convey my sympathy to Mrs. Foote?" + +The rest of that day, and of the days that followed it, Bonbright was +trying to find the answer to the question, What does this mean to me? +and to its companion question, What shall I do with it? + +One paper Richmond had left in Bonbright's hands, as Richmond's +predecessors had left it in the hands of preceding Bonbright Footes. It +was a copy of the will of the first Bonbright Foote, and the basic law, +a sort of Salic law, a family pragmatic sanction for his descendants, +through time and eternity. It laid upon his descendants the weight of +his will with respect to the conduct of the business of Bonbright +Foote, Incorporated. Five generations had followed it faithfully, +deviating only as new conditions made deviation necessary. It was all +there, all set forth minutely. Bonbright could visualize that first of +his line from the reading of it--and he could visualize his father. His +father was the sort of man that will would create.... He considered +himself. He was not off that piece.... + +His father had tried to press him in the family mold, and he remembered +those unbearable days. Now, from his remote grave the first Bonbright +Foote reached out with the same mold and laid his hands on the hope of +the line.... Bonbright read the words many times. His was the choice to +obey or to disobey, to remain an individual, distinct and separate from +all other individuals since the world began, or to become the sixth +reincarnation of Bonbright Foote I.... The day following his father's +burial he chose, not rashly in haste, nor without studied reason. To +others the decision might not have seemed momentous; to Bonbright it +was epoch-marking. It did mark an epoch in the history of the Foote +family. It was the Family's French Revolution. It was Martin Luther +throwing his inkpot at the devil--and overturning the ages. + +Bonbright's decision required physical expression. Most human decisions +require physical expression to give them effect. He had a feeling as +though six disembodied Bonbright Footes stood about in an agony of +anxiety, watching to see what he would do as he took the emblematical +paper in his hands. He tore it very slowly, tore it again and again +into ribbons and into squares, and let them flutter into his +wastebasket.... If others had been present to assert that they heard a +groan he would not have denied it, for the ancestors were very real to +him then... their presence was a definite fact. + +"There..." he said. The king was dead. Long live the king! + +It was after that he had his talk with his mother. Perhaps he was +abrupt, but he dreaded that talk. Perhaps his diplomacy was faulty or +lacking. Perhaps he made mistakes and failed to rise to the +requirements of the conditions and of his relationship with her. He did +his best. + +"Mother," he said, "we must talk things over." + +She sat silently, waiting for him to speak. + +"Whatever you wish," he said, "I shall do... if I can." + +"There is a qualification?" she said. + +"Suppose you tell me what you want done," he said. + +"I want you to come to your senses and realize your position," she +said, coldly. "I want you to get rid of that woman and, after a decent +interval, marry some suitable girl...." + +"I was discussing your affairs, mother, not mine. We will not refer to +my wife." + +"All I want," she said, "is what I am entitled to as your father's +widow." + +"This house, of course," he said. "You will want to stay here. I want +you to stay here." + +"And you?" + +"I prefer to live as I am." + +"You mean you do not care to come back here?" + +"Yes." + +"You must. I insist upon it. You have caused scandal enough now.... +People would talk." + +"Mother, we might as well understand each other at once. I am not +Bonbright Foote VII. Let that be clear. I am Bonbright Foote. I am +myself, an individual. The old way of doing things is gone.... Perhaps +you have heard of the family law--the first Bonbright's will. ... I +have just torn it up." + +She compressed her lips and regarded him with hostility. Then she +shrugged her shoulders. + +"I suppose I must make the best of it. I realize I am powerless." She +realized it fully in that moment; realized that her son was a man, a +man with force and a will, and that it would be hopeless to try to +bring him to submit to her influence. "There is nothing for us to +discuss. I shall ask for what I need...." + +"Very well," he said, not coldly, not sharply, but sorrowfully. There +was no need to try to approach nearer to his mother. She did not desire +it. In her the motherly instinct did not appear. She had never given +birth to a son; what she had done was to provide her husband with an +heir, and, that being done, she was finished with the affair. ... + +He went from his mother to his own room, where he sat down at his desk +and wrote a brief letter to his wife. It was not so difficult to +compose as the other one had been, but it was equally succinct, equally +barren of emotion. Yet he was not barren of emotion as he wrote it. + +MY DEAR RUTH [he said],-My father is dead. This makes a very material +change in my financial condition, and the weekly sum I have been +sending you becomes inadequate. Hereafter a suitable check will be +mailed you each week until the year expires. At that time I shall make +a settlement upon you which will be perfectly satisfactory. In the +meantime, should you require anything, you have but to notify me, or, +if you prefer, notify Mr. Manley Richmond, who will attend to it +immediately. + +This letter he mailed himself.... Not many days later it was returned +to him with "Not Found" stamped upon it in red ink. Bonbright fancied +there must be some error, so he sent it again by messenger. The boy +returned to report that the apartment was vacant and that no one could +furnish the present address of the lady who had occupied it. Bonbright +sent to Ruth's mother, who could only inform him that Ruth had gone +away, she did not know where, and such goings-on she never saw, and why +she should be asked to bear more than she had borne was a mystery..-- + +There was but one conclusion for Bonbright. Ruth had been too impatient +to wait for the year to expire and had gone away with Dulac.... + +Hilda could have corrected that belief, but he did not see Hilda, had +not seen her, for his new duties and new problems and responsibilities +occupied him many more hours a day than any labor union or legislature +would have permitted an employee to be required to work. His hours of +labor did not stop with the eighth nor with the tenth.... There were +days when they began with daylight and continued almost to daylight +again. + +Ruth had gone with Dulac.... She was hidden away. Not even Hilda +Lightener knew where she was, but Hilda knew why she had gone.... There +is an instinct in most animals and some humans which compels them to +hide away when they suffer wounds. Hilda knew Ruth had crept away +because she had suffered the hardest to bear of all wounds--and +crushing of hope.... + +She had gone the morning after Bonbright's father died, leaving no word +but that she was going, and she had not gone far. It is simple to lose +oneself in a city. One may merely move to the next ward and be lost to +one's friends. Only chance will cause a meeting, and Ruth was +determined to guard against that chance. + +She found a cheap, decent boarding house, among laboring people; she +found a new position... that was all. She had to live; to continue was +required of her, but it must be among strangers. She could face +existence where there were no pitying eyes; where there was none to +remind her of her husband.... She hid away with her love, and coddled +it and held it up for herself to see. She lived for it. It was her +life.... Even at her darkest moment she was glad she loved. She devoted +herself wholly to that love which had been discovered just too +late--which was not the wise nor the healthful thing to do, as any +physician could have informed her. + + + + +CHAPTER XXX + + +For a few days after the commencement of his reign Bonbright remained +quiescent. It was not through uncertainty, nor because he did not know +what he was going to do. It was because he wanted to be sure of the +best way of doing it. Very little of his time was spent in the room +that had been his father's and was now his own; he walked about the +plant, studying, scrutinizing, appraising, comparing. He did not go +about now as he had done with Rangar on the day his father inducted him +into the dignity of heir apparent and put a paper crown on his head and +a wooden scepter in his hand. + +He was aware that the men eyed him morosely. Bitterness was still alive +in their hearts, and the recollection of suffering fresh in their +minds. They still looked at him as a sort of person his father had made +him appear, and viewed his succession as a calamity. The old regime had +been bad enough, they told one another, but this young man, with his +ruthlessness, his heartlessness, with what seemed to be a savage desire +to trample workingmen into unresisting, unprotesting submission--this +would be intolerable. So they scowled at him, and in their homes talked +to their wives with apprehension of dark days ahead. + +He felt their attitude. It could not be helped--yet. His work could not +be started with the men, it must start elsewhere. He would come to the +men later, in good time, in their proper order. + +His third morning in the office he had called Malcolm Lightener on the +telephone. + +"Is your proposition to manufacture ten thousand engines still open?" + +"Yes." + +"I'll take the contract--providing we can arrive at terms." + +"I'll send over blue prints and specifications--and my cost figures. +Probably our costs will be lower than yours...." + +"They won't be," said Bonbright, with a tightening of his jaw. "Can you +lend me Mershon for a while?" Mershon was Lightener's engineer, the man +who had designed and built his great plant. + +"I can't, but I will." + +"As soon as he can arrange it, please. I want to get started." + +"He'll be there in half an hour." + +Mershon came, a gray, beefy, heavy-faced man--with clear, keen, seeing +eyes. + +"Mr. Lightener has loaned you to me, Mr. Mershon. It was a tremendous +favor, for I know what you can do." + +Mershon nodded. He was a man who treasured up words. He must have had a +great store of them laid by, for in his fifty years he had used up +surprisingly few. + +"This is what I want," Bonbright said. "First, I want a plant designed +with a capacity of twenty thousand Lightener engines. You designed +Lightener's engine plant--so you're about the one man to give me one +that will turn out more engines with less labor and at lower cost than +his. That's what I want." + +Mershon's eyes lighted. "It will cost money," he said. + +"I'll find the money; you give me the plant," Bonbright said. "And +second, I want a survey made of this present plant. I know a lot of it +is junk, but I'm not competent to say how much. You will know what to +do. If I have to junk the whole outfit I'll do it. I don't want to +waste money, but I want these mills to be the equal of any mills in the +country.... Not only in efficiency, but as a place to work. I want them +safe. You will understand. I want the men considered. Give them light +and air. Wait till you see our wash rooms!" He shrugged his shoulders. +"It isn't enough to have the best machines," he said. "I want the men +to be able to do the best that's in them.... You understand?" + +Mershon nodded. + +"The next room is yours." Bonbright pointed toward his old office, the +one it had been the family custom to close on the accession of the heir +apparent, and never to reopen until a new heir was ready to take up his +duties. He felt a sort of pleasure in this profanation. "You'll find it +large enough. If you need more room, ask for it.... Get what assistants +you need." + +"No more interruption of production than necessary," said Mershon. + +"Exactly.... And we need that new plant in a hurry. I've taken a +contract to make ten thousand engines for Mr. Lightener this year." + +It was that day that he called Rangar into the room. Rangar had been +uneasy, fearful, since his old employer had died. He had been an +important figure under the old order; a sort of shadow behind the +throne. He wondered what would happen to him now. More especially if +Bonbright had a notion of some of his duties under Bonbright's father. +He was not kept in suspense. + +"Mr. Rangar," said Bonbright, "I have been looking through the files. +Some of your duties have become clear to me. I was familiar with +others.... Perhaps my father required a man like yourself. I do not. +The old way of doing things here is gone, and you and I could not be +happy together. I shall direct the cashier to give you a check for six +months' salary..." + +"You mean--" + +"Exactly what I say." + +"But--you don't understand the business. Who is going to run it while +you learn?" + +"I don't want to know how this business was run. It's not going to be +run that way.... There's nothing you could teach me, Mr. Hangar.... +Good afternoon." + +Rangar went white with rage. Animosity toward this young man he had +harbored since the beginning; it flowered into hatred. But he dared not +voice it. It was not in Hangar's nature to be open, to fight without +cover. If he spoke, the check for six months' salary might be +withdrawn, so, uttering none of the venom that flooded to his lips, he +went away.... Rangar was the sort of man who vows to get even. ... + +That evening Bonbright sat in his window and watched the army of his +employees surge out of the big gate and fill the street. Five thousand +of them.... It was a sight that always fascinated him, as it had that +first evening when he saw them, and came to a realization of what it +meant to be overlord to such a multitude. More than ever he realized it +now--for he was their overlord. They were his men. It was he who gave +them the work that kept them alive; he who held their happiness, their +comfort, their very existence in the hollow of his hand.... And he knew +that in every one of those five thousand breasts burned resentment +toward him. He knew that their most friendly feeling toward him was +suspicion. + +It was easy to rebuild a plant; it was simple to construct new mills +with every device that would make for efficiency. That was not a +problem to awe him. It needed but the free expenditure of money, and +there was money in plenty.... But here was a task and a problem whose +difficulty and vastness filled him with misgiving. He must turn that +five thousand into one smooth-running, willing whole. He must turn +their resentment, their bitterness, their suspicion, into trust and +confidence. He must solve the problem of capital and labor.... An +older, more experienced man might have smiled at Bonbright--at his +daring to conceive such a possibility. But Bonbright dared to conceive +it; dared to set himself the task of bringing it about. + +That would be his work, peculiarly. No one could help him with it, for +it was personal, appertaining to him. It was between Bonbright Foote +and the five thousand. + +It was inevitable that he should feel bitterness toward his father, +for, but for his father, his work would now be enormously more simple. +If these men knew him as he was--knew of his interest in them, of his +willingness to be fair--he would have had their confidence from the +start. His father had made him appear a tyrant, without consideration +for labor; had made him a capitalist of the most detestable type. It +was a deep-seated impression. It had been proven. The men had +experienced it; had felt the weight of Bonbright's ruthless hand.... +How could he make them believe it was not his hand? How could he make +them believe that the measures taken to crush the strike had not been +his measures; that they had been carried out under his name but against +his will? It sounded absurd even to himself. Nobody would believe it. + +Therefore he must begin, not at the beginning, but deeper than the +beginning. He could not start fairly, but under a handicap so great as +to make his chances of winning all but negligible.... It would be +useless to tell his men that he had been but a figurehead. For him the +only course was to blot out what had gone--to forget it--and to start +against odds to win their confidence. It would be better to let them +slowly come to believe he was a convert--that there had been a +revolution in his heart and mind. Indeed, there was no other way. He +must show them by daily studied conduct that he was not what they +feared he was.... + +He did not know what he was himself. His contact with Malcolm +Lightener's workingmen had given him certain sympathies with the +theories and hopes of labor; but they had made him certain of fallacies +and unsoundness in other theories and ambitions. He was not the +romantic type of wealthy young man who, in stories, meets the under dog +and loves him, and is suddenly converted from being an out-and-out +capitalist to the most radical of socialists. It was not in him to be +radical, for he was steadied by a quietly running balance wheel.... He +was stubborn, too. What he wanted was to be fair, to give what was +due--and to receive what was HIS due.... He could not be swayed by +mawkish sentimental sympathy, nor could he be bullied. Perhaps he was +stiff-necked, but he was a man who must judge of the right or wrong of +a condition himself. Perhaps he was too much that way, but his +experiences had made him so. + +If his men tried to bulldoze him they would find him immovable. What he +believed was right and just he would do; but he had his own set notions +of right and justice. He was sympathetic. His attitude toward the five +thousand was one of friendliness. He regarded them as a charge and a +responsibility. He was oppressed by the magnitude of the +responsibility.... But, on the other hand, he recognized that the five +thousand were under certain responsibilities and obligations to him. He +would do his part, but he would demand their part of them. + +His father had been against unions. Bonbright was against unions. His +reason for this attitude was not the reason of his father. It was +simply this: That he would not be dictated to by individuals who he +felt were meddling in his affairs. He had arrived at a definite +decision on this point: his mills should never be unionized.... If his +men had grievances he would meet with them individually, or committees +sent by them--committees of themselves. He would not treat with +so-called professional labor men. He regarded them as an impertinence. +Whatever differences should arise must be settled between his men and +himself--with no outside interference. This was a position from which +nothing would move him.... It will be seen he was separated by vast +spaces from socialism. + +He called together his superintendents and department foremen and took +them into his confidence regarding his plans for improving and +enlarging the plant. They came, if not with an air of hostility, at +least with reserve, for they were nearer to the men than they were to +Bonbright. They shared the prejudices of the men. Some of them went +away from the meeting with all of their old prejudices and with a new +belief that Bonbright added hypocrisy to his other vices; some withheld +judgment, some were hopeful. Few gave him implicit belief. + +When he was done describing the plans for the factory, he said: "There +is one more thing I want to speak about. It is as vital as the +other.... We have recently gone through a strike which has caused +bitterness toward this institution on the part of the men. There has +been especial bitterness toward myself. I have no defense of myself to +make. It is too late to do that. If any of you men know the facts--you +know them. On that point I have nothing to say.... This is what I want +to impress on you men who are in authority. I want to be fair to every +man in this plant. I am going to give them a fit place to work. Many +parts of this plant are not now fit places. From every man I shall +demand a day's work for a day's pay, but no more. You are in direct +authority. I want each of you to treat his men with consideration, and +to have an eye for their welfare. Perhaps I shall not be able to make +the men feel toward me as I want them to feel, but if it can be brought +about, I want them to know that their interests are my interests.... +That is all, except that to-morrow notices will be posted in every +department stating that my office door is open to any man who works for +me--any man may come to me with complaint or with suggestion at any +time. The notices will state that I want suggestions, and that any man +who can bring me an idea that will improve his work or the work in his +department or in the plant will be paid for it according to its value. +In short, I want the co-operation of every man who draws wages from +this concern...." + +As they went back to their departments the men who left the meeting +discussed Bonbright, as he knew they would and hoped they would. + +"It's a four flush," declared one old fellow, hotly. + +"I don't know.... Wait and see," said another. "He looked like he meant +it." + +Wait and see! That was the general attitude. They took nothing on +trust, but put it squarely up to Bonbright to prove himself by his +actions. + +Mershon came into the office. "How about this construction work?" he +asked. "Need an army of bricklayers. What about the unions?" + +Was this question coming up so quickly? Bonbright frowned. His attitude +toward the unions must become public and would inevitably raise another +obstacle between himself and the men, but he was determined on the +point. + +"A man has a right to join the Masons or the Knights of Columbus, or +the Bricklayers' Union," he said, presently. "That's for him to say, +but when he comes to work here he comes as an individual." + +"Open shop?" + +"Yes." + +"You won't recognize any union? I want to know how I stand with them at +the beginning." + +"I'll recognize no union," said Bonbright. + +The card of a young man from Richmond's office was brought in. +Bonbright sent word for him to be admitted. + +"I came about that Hammil accident case," said the young man. "Hammil +was hurt yesterday, pretty badly, and the report makes it look as if +we'd be stuck if the thing goes to a jury." + +"I know nothing about it," said Bonbright, with a little shock. It was +possible, then, for a man to be maimed or killed in his own plant and +news of it to reach him after days or perhaps never. He made a note to +rectify THAT state of affairs. "You mean that this man Hammil was hurt +through our fault?" + +"I'm afraid a jury would say so." The young man explained the accident +in detail. "He complained about the condition of his machine, and his +foreman told him he could stick to his job there or quit." + +"Forced him to work on an unsafe machine or quit?" + +"Yes." + +Bonbright stared at his blotter a moment. "What did you want to see me +about?" + +"We'd better settle. Right now I can probably run up and put a wad of +bills under Hammil's nose and his wife's, and it'll look pretty big. +Before some ambulance-chaser gets hold of him. He hasn't been able to +talk until awhile ago, so nobody's seen him." + +"Your idea is that we could settle for less than a jury would give him?" + +The young man laughed. "A jury'd give him four or five thousand, maybe +more. Doctor says the injury is permanent. I've settled more than one +like it for three or four hundred." + +"The man won't be able to work again?" + +"Won't be good for much." + +"And we're responsible!" Bonbright said it to himself, not to the young +man. "Is this thing done often--settling these things for--what we can +squeeze them down to?" + +"Of course." The young man was calloused. His job was to settle claims +and save money. His value increased as his settlements were small. + +"Where's Hammil?" + +"At the General Hospital." + +Bonbright got up and went to the closet for his hat. "Come on," he said. + +"You're not going up there, are you?" + +"Yes." + +"But--but I can handle it all right, Mr. Foote. There's no need to +bother you." + +"I've no doubt you can handle it--maybe too well," said Bonbright. + +They were driven to the hospital and shown up to Jim Hammil's room. His +wife was there, pale, tearless, by his bedside. Jim was bandaged, +groaning, in agony. Bonbright's lips lost their color. He felt guilty. +It was HE who had put this man where he was, had smashed him. It was +HIS fault. + +He walked to the bedside. "Jim," he said, "I am Mr. Foote." + +"I--know--you," said the man between teeth set to hold back his groans. + +"And I know you," said his wife. "I know you.... What do you want here?" + +"I came to see Jim," said Bonbright. "I didn't know he was hurt until a +few minutes ago.... It's useless to say I'm sorry." + +"They made him work on that machine. He knowed it wasn't safe.... He +had to work on it or lose his job...." + +"I know that NOW, Mrs. Hammil.... What was he earning?" + +"Two-seventy-five a day.... And now.... How'll we live, with him in the +hospital and maybe never able to work again?" + +"Here..." protested Hammil, weakly, glaring at Bonbright. "We'll come +out all right. He'll pay.... You'll pay, that's what you will. A +jury'll make you pay. Wait till I kin see my lawyer...." + +"You won't need any lawyer, Jim," said Bonbright. It was hard for him +to talk. He could not speak to these people as he wanted to, nor say +the words that would make their way through their despair and rage to +their hearts. "You won't need any lawyer," he repeated. + +"If you think I'm--goin'--to sign--one of them--releases--you're +damn--mistaken," moaned the man. + +"Jim," said Bonbright, "you needn't sign anything.... What's done can't +be mended.... It was bad. It was criminal..." + +"Mr. Foote," protested the young lawyer. + +"I'll attend to this," said Bonbright, shortly. "It's between Jim and +me.... I'll make it as nearly right as it can be made.... First we'll +have you out of this ward into a room.... As long as you are laid up +your wife shall have your full pay every week, and then you and I will +have a talk to see what can be done. Only don't worry.... Don't worry, +Mrs. Hammil...." + +Hammil uttered a sound that was intended for a laugh. "You can't catch +me," he said, in a dreadful voice. "I'm--up to--them sharp tricks.... +You're lyin'.... Git out of here, both of you.... You're--jest here--to +cheat me." + +"You're wrong, Jim." + +"I know--you and--your kind," Jim said, trying to lift himself on his +elbow. "I know--what you--done durin'--the strike.... I had a baby--and +she--DIED.... You killed her!" His voice rose almost to a scream. + +"Better go, sir," said a nurse. "He's hurting himself." + +Bonbright gazed at her blankly. "How can I go?" he asked. "He won't +believe me. He's got to believe me...." + +"You lie!... you lie!..." Hammil cried. "I won't talk to you.... My +lawyer'll--do my talkin'." + +Bonbright paused a moment. Then he saw it would do no good to remain. +The man's mind was poisoned against him; was unable to conceive of a +man in Bonbright's place meaning him otherwise than treachery.... It +went deeper than suspicion of an individual; it was suspicion of a +class. + +"I'll do what I promised, Jim.... That'll prove it to you." + +"You--lie.... You lie..." the man called after him, and Bonbright heard +the words repeated again and again as he walked down the long corridor. + + + + +CHAPTER XXXI + + +Bonbright worked feverishly. These were the best days he had known +since he left college, but they were not happy days. He could not +forget Ruth--the best he could do was to prevent himself from +remembering too much, and so he worked. He demanded of himself more +than it is in a single man to give, but he accomplished an +astonishingly large part of it. Day and night he drove himself without +relaxation and without pause. If he stopped, the old feeling of +emptiness, of the futility of his existence, and the bitterness of his +fortune returned. His nature might have become warped, but for the +labor. + +The building of the new shops he left to Mershon, knowing himself +incompetent. He knew what sort of shops he wanted; Mershon knew how to +produce them, and Mershon was dependable. Bonbright had implicit +confidence in the engineer's ability and integrity, and it was +justified. The new mills were rising.... + +Bonbright's part in that was enough to keep one man occupied, for, +however much he might leave to Mershon, there were countless details +that he must decide; innumerable points to be referred to him and +discussed. But his chief interest was not in producing a plant to +manufacture engines, but in producing a crew of men to operate the +plant; not merely hiring capable workingmen, but producing a condition +where himself and those working-men would be in accord; where the men +would be satisfied, happy in their work; a condition millennial in that +the known as labor unrest should be eliminated. He had set himself to +find a solution to the age-old problem of capital and labor.... + +He had not realized how many elements entered into the matter, and what +a high degree of specialized knowledge must be brought to the task. In +the beginning he had fancied himself as capable of working out the +basis for ideal relations between him and his employees as any other. +He soon discovered himself to be all but unequipped for the effort.... +It was a saving quality of Bonbright's that he would admit his own +futilities. Therefore he called to conference the country's greatest +sociologist, Professor Witzer. + +The professor, a short, wabbling individual, with watery eyes that +could read print splendidly if it were held within six inches of them, +and who, when he did read, moved book or paper back and forth in front +of his spectacles in a droll, owlish, improbable way, instead of +letting his eyes travel across the lines of print, was skeptical at +first. He suspected Bonbright of being a youth scratching the itch of a +sudden and transient enthusiasm. But he became interested. Bonbright +compelled his interest, for he was earnest, intense, not enthusiastic, +not effervescing with underdone theories. + +"What you want to do, as I understand it," said the professor, "is +merely to revolutionize the world and bring on the millennium." + +"What I want to do," said Bonbright, "is to formulate a plan that will +be fair to labor and fair to me. I want a condition where both of us +will be satisfied--and where both will know we are satisfied. It can be +done." + +"Um!..." said the professor. "Are you, by chance, a socialist?" + +"Far from it." + +"What are your theories?" + +"I haven't any theories. I want facts, working facts. There's no use +palavering to the men. What they want and what I want is something +concrete. I want to know what they want, and how much of it will be +good for them. I want something that will work in dollars and cents, in +days' work, in making life more comfortable for the women and children +at home. If merely paying wages will do it, then I'll pay the wages...." + +"It won't," said the professor. "But it 'll go quite some distance." + +"It isn't a matter of sentiment with me," Bonbright said. "It's a +matter of business, and peace of mind, and all-around efficiency. I +don't mean efficiency in this plant, but efficiency in LIVING.... For +the men and their families." + +"It can't be done by giving them rest rooms with Turkish rugs nor +porcelain bathtubs, nor by installing a moving-picture show for them to +watch while they eat lunch," said the professor. "It can't be done with +money alone. It would work in isolated cases. Give some men a +sufficient wage and they would correct their ways of living; they would +learn to live decently, and they would save for the rainy day and for +old age. I don't venture an estimate of the proportion.... But there +would be the fellows whose increased pay meant only that much more to +spend. Mighty little would filter through to improve the conditions of +their actual living.... In any scheme there will have to be some way of +regulating the use of the money they earn--and that's paternalism." + +"Can it be made to work? It's your honest opinion I'm after." + +"I don't believe it, but, young man, it will be the most interesting +experiment I ever engaged in. Have you any ideas?" + +"My basic idea is to pay them enough so they can live in comfort. ..." + +"And then you've got to find some machinery to compel them to live in +comfort." + +"I'd like to see every employee of this concern the owner of his home. +I'd like to feel that no man's wife is a drudge. An astonishingly large +number of wives do washing, or work out by the day.... And boarders. +The boarder is a problem." + +"You HAVE been thinking," said the professor. "Do I understand that you +are offering me the chance to work with you on this experiment?" + +"Yes." + +"I accept.... I never dreamed I'd have a chance to meddle with human +lives the way you seem to want to meddle with them...." + +So they went to work, and day after day, week after week, their plan +grew and expanded and embraced unforeseen intricacies. Bonbright +approached it from the practical side always. The professor came to +view him with amazement--and with respect. + +"I'm sticking my finger into the lives of twenty thousand human +beings!" the professor said to himself many times a day, with the joy +of the scientist. "I'm being first assistant to the world's greatest +meddler. That young man is headed for a place as one of the world's +leaders, or for a lamp-post and a rope.... I wonder which...." + +The thing that Bonbright asked himself many, many times was a different +sort of question. "Is this the sort of thing she meant? Would she +approve of doing this?" + +He was not embarked on the project for Ruth's sake. It was not Ruth who +had driven him to it, but himself, and the events of his life. But her +presence was there.... He was doing his best. He was doing the thing he +thought would bring about the condition he desired, and he hoped she +would approve if she knew.... But whether she approved or not, he would +have persisted along his own way.... If he had never known her, never +married her, he would have done the same thing. Some day she would know +this, and understand it. It would be another irony for her to bear. The +man she had married that she might influence him to ameliorate the +conditions of his workingmen was doing far more than she had dreamed of +accomplishing herself--and would have done it if she had never been +born.... + +Neither she nor Bonbright realized, perhaps would never realize, that +it is not the individual who brings about changes in the social fabric. +It is not fanatics, not reformers, not inspired leaders. It is the +labored working of the mass, and the working of the mass brings forth +and casts up fanatics, reformers, leaders, when it has gestated them +and prepared the way for their birth. The individual is futile; his +aims and plans are futile save as they are the outcome of the trend of +the mass.... + +Ruth was not so fortunate as Bonbright. Her work did not fill her time +nor draw her interest. It was merely the thing she did to earn the +necessities of life. She was living now in a boarding house on the +lower side of the city, where a room might be had for a sum within her +means. It was not a comfortable room. It was not a room that could be +made comfortable by any arrangement of its occupant. But it was in a +clean house, presided over by a woman of years and respectable +garrulity. + +Six days of the week Ruth worked, and the work became daily more +exhausting, demanding more of her nervous organism as her physical +organism had less to give. She was not taking care of herself. It is +only those who cling to life, who are interested in life and in +themselves, who take care of their bodies as they should be taken care +of. She had been slight; now she was thin. No one now would have +dreamed of calling her the Girl with the Grin. She looked older, +lifeless, almost haggard at times. Her condition was not wholly the +result of unhappiness. It was due to lack of fresh air and exercise, +for she went seldom abroad. It was fear of meeting acquaintances that +shut her in her room--fear of meeting Bonbright, fear of encountering +Dulac. It was loneliness, too. She made no new acquaintances, and went +her way in solitude. She had not so much as a nodding acquaintance with +most of her fellow lodgers. Not one of them could boast of conversation +with her beyond the briefest passing of the day.... At first they +gossiped about her, speculated about her, wove crude stories about her. +Some chose to think her exclusive, and endeavored to show her by their +bearing that they thought themselves as good as she--and maybe better. +They might have saved themselves their trouble, for she never noticed. +Lack of proper nourishment did its part. Women seem prone to neglect +their food. The housewife, if her husband does not come home to the +midday meal, contents herself with a snack, hastily picked up, and +eaten without interest. Ruth had no appetite. She went to the table +three times a day because a certain quantity of food was a necessity. +She did not eat at Mrs. Moody's table, but "went out to her meals...." +She ate anywhere and everywhere. + +Mrs. Moody alone had tried to approach Ruth. Ruth had been courteous, +but distant. She wanted no prying into her affairs; no seekers after +confidences; no discoverers of her identity. For gossip spreads, and +one does not know what spot it may reach.... + +"It hain't healthy for her to set in her room all the time," Mrs. Moody +said to the mercenary who helped with the cooking. "And it hain't +natural for a girl like her never to have comp'ny. Since she's been +here there hain't been a call at the door for her--nor a letter." + +"I hain't seen her but once or twict," said the mercenary. "If I was to +meet her face to face on the street, I hain't sure I'd know it was her." + +"She didn't look good when she come, and she's lookin' worse every day. +First we know we'll have her down on her back.... And then what?... +S'pose she was to be took sudden? Who'd we notify?" + +"The horspittle," said the mercenary, callously. + +"She's sich a mite of a thing, with them big eyes lookin' sorry all the +while. I feel sort of drawed to her. But she won't have no truck with +me... nor nobody.... She hain't never left nothin' layin' around her +room that a body could git any idee about her from. Secretive, I call +it." + +"Maybe," said the mercenary, "she's got a past." + +"One thing's certain, if she don't look better 'fore she looks worse, +she won't have a long future." + +That seemed to be a true saying. Ruth felt something of it. It was +harder for her to get up of mornings, more difficult to drag herself to +work and hold up during the day. Sometimes she skipped the evening meal +now and went straight home to bed. All she wanted was to rest, to lie +down.... One day she fainted in the office.... + +Her burden was harder to support because it included not grief alone, +but remorse, and if one excepts hatred, remorse is the most wearing of +the emotions.... As she became weaker, less normal, it preyed on her. + +Then, one morning, she fainted as she tried to get out of bed, and lay +on the floor until consciousness returned. She dragged herself back +into bed and lay there, gazing dully up at the ceiling, suffering no +pain... only so tired. She did not speculate about it. Somehow it did +not interest her very much. Even not going to work didn't bother +her--she had reached that point. + +Mrs. Moody had watched her going and coming for several days with +growing uneasiness. This morning she knew Ruth had not gone out, and +presently the woman slap-slapped up the stairs in her heelless slippers +to see about it. She rapped on Ruth's door. There was no response. She +rapped again.... + +"I know you're in there," she said, querulously. "Why don't you answer?" + +Inside, Ruth merely moved her head from side to side on the pillow. She +heard--but what did it matter? + +Mrs. Moody opened the door and stepped inside. She was prepared for +what she saw. + +"There you be," she said, with a sort of triumphant air, as of one +whose prophecy had been fulfilled to the letter, "flat on your back." + +Ruth paid no attention. + +"What ails you?" + +No answer. + +"Here now"--she spoke sharply--"you know who I be, don't you?" + +"Yes," said Ruth. + +"Why didn't you answer?" + +"I am--so--tired," Ruth said, faintly. + +"You can't be sick here. Don't you go doin' it. I hain't got no time to +look after sick folks." She might as well have spoken to the pillow. +Ruth didn't care. She had simply reached the end of her will, and had +given up. It was over. She was absolutely without emotion. + +Mrs. Moody approached the bed and felt of Ruth's hand. She had expected +to find it hot. It was cold, bloodless. It gave the woman a start. She +looked down at Ruth's face, from which the big eyes stared up at her +without seeming to see her. + +"You poor mite of a thing," said Mrs. Moody, softly. Then she seemed to +jack herself up to a realization that softness would not do and that +she could not allow such goings-on in her house. "You're sick, and if +I'm a judge you're mighty sick," she said, sharply. "Who's goin' to +look after you. Say?" + +The tone stirred Ruth.... "Nobody..." she said, after a pause. + +"I got to notify somebody," said Mrs. Moody. "Any relatives or friends?" + +Ruth seemed to think it over as if the idea were hard to comprehend. + +"Once I--had a--husband..." she said. + +"But you hain't got him now, apparently. Have you got anybody?" + +"... Husband..." said Ruth. "... husband.... But he--went away.... No, +_I_--went away... because it was--too late then.... It was too +late--THEN, wasn't it?" Her voice was pleading. + +"You know more about it than me," said Mrs. Moody. "I want you should +tell me somebody I can notify." + +"I--loved him... and I didn't know it.... That was--queer--wasn't +it?... He NEVER knew it...." + +"She's clean out of her head," said Mrs. Moody, irritably, "and what'll +I do? Tell me that. What'll I do, and her most likely without a cent +and all that?... Why didn't you go and git sick somewheres else? You +could of...." + +She wrung her hands and called Providence to witness that all the +arrows of misfortune were aimed at her, and always had been. + +"You ought to be ashamed of yourself--a growd woman like you--makin' me +all this nuisance. I sha'n't put up with it. You'll go packin' to the +horspittle, that's what you'll do. Mark my word." + +Mrs. Moody's method of packing Ruth off to the hospital was unique. It +consisted of running herself for the doctor. It consisted of listening +with bated breath to his directions; it consisted of giving up almost +wholly the duties--A conducting her boarding house, and in making +gruels and heating water and sitting in Ruth's room wielding a fan over +Ruth's ungrateful face. It consisted in spending of her scant supply of +money for medicines, in constant attendance and patient, faithful +nursing--accompanied by sharp scoldings and recriminations uttered in a +monotone guaranteed not to disturb the sick girl. Perhaps she really +fancied she was being hard and unsympathetic and calloused. She talked +as if she were, but no single act was in tune with her words.... She +grumbled--and served. She complained--and hovered over Ruth with +clumsy, gentle hands. She was afraid somebody might think her tender. +She was afraid she might think so herself.... The world is full of Mrs. +Moodys. + +Ruth lay day after day with no change, half conscious, wholly +listless.... It seemed to Mrs. Moody to be nothing but a waiting for +the end. But she waited for the end as though the sick girl were flesh +of her flesh, protesting to heaven against the imposition, ceaselessly. + + + + +CHAPTER XXXII + + +If Bonbright's handling of the Hammil casualty created a good +impression among the men, his stand against the unions more than +counterbalanced it. He was able to get no nearer to the men. Perhaps, +as individuals became acquainted with him, there was less open +hostility manifested, but there remained suspicion, resentment, which +Bonbright was unable to convert into friendship and co-operation. + +The professor of sociology peered frequently at Bonbright through his +thick spectacles with keen interest. He found as much enjoyment in +studying his employer as he did in working over his employer's plan. +Frequently he discussed Bonbright with Mershon. + +"He's a strange young man," he said, "an instructive psychological +study. Indeed he is. One cannot catalogue him. He is made up of +opposites. Look you, Mershon, at his eagerness to better the conditions +of his men--that's why I'm abandoning classes of boys who ought to be +interested in what I teach them, but aren't--and then place beside it +his antagonism to unionism...." + +Mershon was interested at that instant more in the practical aspects of +the situation. "The unions are snapping at our heels. Bricklayers, +masons, structural steel, the whole lot. I've been palavering with +them--but I'm about to the end of my rope. We've needed men and we've +got a big sprinkling of union men. Wages have attracted them. I'm +afraid we've got too many, so many the unions feel cocky. They think +they're strong enough to take a hand and try to force recognition on +us.... He won't have it." Mershon shrugged his shoulders. "I've got to +the end of my rope. Yesterday I told him the responsibility was one I +didn't hanker for, and put it up to him. He's going to meet with the +labor fellows to-day.... And we can look for fireworks." + +"If I were labor," said the professor, "I think I should leave that +young man alone--until I saw where he headed. They're going to get more +out of him than organization could compel or even hope for. If they +prod him too hard they may upset things. He's fine capacity for +stubbornness." + +The labor representatives were on their way to the office. When they +arrived they asked first for Mershon, who received them and notified +Bonbright. + +"Show them in," he said. "We may as well have it over." There were four +of the men whom Mershon led through the door into Bonbright's office, +but Bonbright saw but one of them-Dulac! + +The young man half rose from his chair, then sat down with his eyes +fixed upon the man into whose hands, he believed, his wife had given +herself. It was curious that he felt little resentment toward Dulac, +and none of that murderous rage which some men might have felt.... + +"Mr. Dulac," he said, "I want to--talk with you. Will you ask +these--other gentlemen if they will step outside for--a few moments.... +I have a personal matter to discuss with--Mr. Dulac." + +Dulac was not at his ease. He had come in something like a spirit of +bravado to face Bonbright, and this turn to the event nonplused him. +However, if he would save his face he must rise to the situation. + +"Just a minute, boys," he said to his companions, and with Mershon they +filed into the next room. + +"Dulac," said Bonbright, in a voice that was low but steady, "is she +well and--happy?" + +"Eh?..." Dulac was startled indeed. + +"I haven't kept you to--quarrel," said Bonbright. "I hoped she +would--wait the year before she went--to you, but it was hers to +choose. ... Now that she has chosen--I want to know if it has--made her +happy. I want her to be happy, Dulac." + +Dulac came a step nearer the desk. Something in Bonbright's voice and +manner compelled, if not his sympathy, at least something which +resembled respect. + +"Do you mean you don't know where Ruth is?" he asked. + +"No." + +"You thought she was with me?" + +"Yes." + +"Mr. Foote, she isn't with me.... I wish to God she was. I've seen her +only once since--that evening. It was by accident, on the street. ... I +tried to see her. I found the place empty, and nobody knew where she'd +gone. Even her mother didn't know. I thought you had sent her away." + +"Dulac," said Bonbright, leaning forward as though drawn by spasmodic +contraction of tense muscles, "is this true?" + +For once Dulac did not become theatrical, did not pose, did not reply +to this doubt, as became labor flouting capital. Perhaps it was because +the matter lay as close to his stormy heart as it did to Bonbright's. +"Yes," he said. + +"Then where..." + +"I don't--know." + +"She's out there alone," said Bonbright, dully. "She's been out there +alone--all these months. She's so little.... What made her go away?... +Something has happened to her...." + +"Haven't you had any word--anything?" Dulac was becoming frightened +himself. + +"Nothing--nothing." + +Bonbright leaped to his feet and took two steps forward and two back. +"I've got to know," he said. "She must be found.... Anything could have +happened...." + +"It's up to us to find her," said Dulac, unconsciously, intuitively +coupling himself with Bonbright. They were comrades in this thing. The +anxiety was equally theirs. + +"Yes.... Yes." + +"She wasn't the kind of a girl to--" + +"No," said Bonbright, quickly, as if afraid to hear Dulac say the +words, "she wouldn't do THAT.... Maybe she's just hiding away--or +hurt--or sick. I've got to know." + +"Call back the boys.... Let's get this conference over so we can get at +it." + +Bonbright nodded, and Dulac stepped to the door. The men re-entered. + +"Now, gentlemen," said Bonbright. + +"We just came to put the question to you squarely, Mr. Foote. We +represent all the trades working on the new buildings. Are you going to +recognize the unions?" + +"No," said Bonbright. + +"More than half the men on the job are union." + +"They're welcome to stay," said Bonbright. + +"Well, they won't stay," said the spokesman. "We've fiddled along with +this thing, and the boys are mighty impatient. This is our last word, +Mr. Foote. Recognize the unions or we'll call off our men." + +Bonbright stood up. "Good afternoon, gentlemen," said he. + +With angry faces they tramped out, all but Dulac, who stopped in the +door. "I'm going to look for her," he said. + +"If you find anything--hear anything--" + +Dulac nodded. "I'll let you know," he said. + +"I'll be--searching, too," said Bonbright. Mershon came in. "Here's a +letter--" he began. + +Bonbright shook his head. "Attend to it--whatever it is. I'm going out. +I don't know when I shall be back.... You have full authority. ..." + +He all but rushed from the room, and Mershon stared after him in +amazement. Bonbright did not know where he was going, what he was going +to do. There was no plan, but his need was action. He must be doing +something, searching.... But as he got into his machine he recognized +the futility of aimlessness. There was a way of going about such +things.... He must be calm. He must enlist aid. + +Suddenly he thought of Hilda Lightener. He had not seen her for weeks. +She had been close to Ruth; perhaps she knew something. He drove to the +Lightener residence and asked for her. Hilda was at home. + +"She's LOST," said Bonbright, as Hilda came into the room. + +"What? Who are you talking about?" + +"'Ruth.... She's not with Dulac. He doesn't know where she is; she was +never with him." + +"Did you think she was?" Hilda said, accusingly. "You--you're so--Oh, +the pair of you!" + +"Do you know where she is?" + +"I haven't seen nor heard of her since the day--your father died." + +"Something must have happened.... She wouldn't have gone away like +that--without telling anybody, even her mother...." + +"She would," said Hilda. "She--she was hurt. She couldn't bear to stay. +She didn't tell me that, but I know.... And it's your fault for--for +being blind." + +"I don't understand." + +"She loved you," said Hilda, simply. "No.... She told me. She +never--loved--me. It was him. She married me to--" + +"I know what she married you for. I know all about it.... And she +thought she loved him. She found out she didn't. But I knew it for a +long time," Hilda said, womanlike, unable to resist the temptation to +boast of her intuition. "It all came to her that day--and she was going +to tell you.... She was going to do that--going to go to you and tell +you and ask you to take her back.... She said she'd make you believe +her...." + +"No," said Bonbright, "you're--mistaken, Hilda. She was my wife.... I +know how she felt. She couldn't bear to have me pass close to her. ..." + +"It IS true," Hilda said. "She was going to you.... And then I came and +told her your father was dead.... That made it all impossible, don't +you see?... Because you knew why she had married you, and you would +believe she came back to you because--you owned the mills and employed +all those men.... That's what you WOULD have believed, too. ..." + +"Yes," said Bonbright. + +"And then--it was more than she could bear. To know she loved you and +had loved you a long time--and that you loved her. You do, don't you?" + +"I can't--help it." + +"So that made it worse than anything that had gone before--and she went +away. She didn't tell even me, but I ought to have known...." + +"And you haven't even a trace?" + +"Bonbright, if you find her--what?" + +"I don't know.... I've just got to find her. I've got to know what's +happened...." + +"Are you going to tell her you love her--and take her back?" + +"She wouldn't want me.... Oh, you think you are right, Hilda. But I +know. I lived with her for weeks and I saw how she felt. You're +wrong.... No, I'll just FIND her...." + +"And leave her as bad off as she was before." + +"I'll do anything for her--you know that." + +"Except the one thing she can't do without...." + +"You don't understand," he said, wearily. + +"And you're dense and blind--and that's what makes half the cruelty in +the world." + +"Let's not--talk about that part of it, Hilda. Will you help me find +her?" + +"No," said Hilda. "She's where she wants to be. I'm not going to +torture her by finding her for you--and then letting her slip back +again--into hopelessness. If you'll promise to love her and believe she +loves you--I'll try to find her." + +Bonbright shook his head. + +"Then let her be. No matter where she is, she's better off than she +would be if you found her--and she tried to tell you and you wouldn't +believe.... You let her be." + +"She may be hurt, or sick...." + +"If she were she'd let somebody know," said Hilda, but in her own mind +was a doubt of this. She knew Ruth, she knew to what heights of +fanaticism Ruth's determination could rise, and that the girl was quite +capable, more especially in her state of overwrought nerves, of dying +in silence. + +"I won't help you," she said, firmly. + +Bonbright got up slowly, wearily. "I'm sorry," he said. "I thought +you--would help.... I'll have to hunt alone, then...." And before she +could make up her mind to speak, to tell him she didn't mean what she +said, and that she would search with him and help him, he was gone. + +The only thing he could think of to do was to go once more to their +apartment and see if any trace of her could be picked up there. +Somebody must have seen her go. Somebody must have seen the furniture +going or heard where it was going.... Perhaps somebody might remember +the name on the van. + +He did not content himself with asking the janitor and his wife, who +could tell him nothing. He went from tenant to tenant. Few of them +remembered even that such a girl had lived there, for tenants in +apartment houses change with the months. But one woman, a spinster of +the sort who pass their days in their windows and fill their lives +meagerly by watching what they can see of their neighbors' activities, +gave a hint. She was sure she remembered that particular removal on +account of the young woman who moved looking so pale and anxious. Yes, +she was sure she did, because she told herself that something must have +happened, and it excited her to know that something had happened so +close to her. Evidently she had itched with curiosity for days. + +"It was a green van--I'm sure it was a green van," she said, "because I +was working a centerpiece with green leaves, and the van was almost the +same shade.... Not quite the same shade, but almost. I held my work up +to the window to see, and the van was a little darker...." + +"Wasn't there a name on it? Didn't you notice the name?" + +The spinster concentrated on that. "Yes, there was a name. Seems to me +it began with an 'S,' or maybe it was a 'W.' Now, wasn't that name +Walters? No, seems more as if it was Rogers, or maybe Smith. It was one +of those, or something like it. Anyhow, I'm sure it began with a +'B.'..." + +That was the nearest Bonbright came to gleaning a fact. A green van. +And it might not have been a green van. The spinster's memory seemed +uncertain. Probably she had worked more than one centerpiece, not all +with green leaves. She was as likely to have worked yellow flowers or a +pink design.... But Bonbright had no recourse but to look for a green +van. + +He drove to the office of a trucking and moving concern and asked if +there were green vans. The proprietor said HIS vans were always yellow. +Folks could see them farther and the paint wore better; but all men +didn't follow his judgment. Yes, there WERE green vans, though not so +good as his, and not so careful of the furniture. He told Bonbright who +owned the green vans. It was a storage house. + +Bonbright went to the huge brick storage building, and persuaded a +clerk to search the records. A bill from Bonbright's pocketbook added +to the persuasion.... An hour's wait developed that a green van +belonging to the company had moved goods from that address--and the +spinster was vindicated. + +"Brought 'em here and stored 'em," said the young man. "Here's the +name--Frazer. Ruth Frazer." + +"That's it," said Bonbright. "That's it." + +"Storage hain't been paid.... No word from the party. Maybe she'll show +up some day to claim 'em. If not, we'll sell 'em for the charges." + +"Didn't she leave any address?" + +"Nope." + +It had been only a cul de sac. Bonbright had come to the end of it, and +had only to retrace his steps. It had led him no nearer to his wife. +What to do now? He didn't see what he could do, or that anybody could +do better than he had done.... He thought of going to the police, but +rejected that plan. It was repulsive to him and would be repulsive to +Ruth.... He might insert a personal in the paper. Such things were +done. But if Ruth were ill she would not see it. If she wanted to hide +from him she would not reply. + +He went to Mrs. Frazer, but Mrs. Frazer only sobbed and bewailed her +fate, and stated her opinion of Bonbright in many confused words. It +seemed to be her idea that her daughter was dead or kidnapped, and +sometimes she appeared to hold both notions simultaneously.... +Bonbright got nothing there. + +Discouraged, he went back to his office, but not to his work. He could +not work. His mind would hold no thought but of Ruth.... He must find +her. He MUST.... Nothing mattered unless he could find her, and until +he found her he would be good for nothing else. + +He tried to pull himself together. "I've got to work," he said. "I've +got to think about something else...." But his will was unequal to the +performance.... "Where is she?... Where is she?.." The question, the +DEMAND, repeated itself over and over and over. + + + + +CHAPTER XXXIII + + +There was a chance that a specialist, a professional, might find traces +of Ruth where Bonbright's untrained eyes missed them altogether. So, +convinced that he could do nothing, that he did not in the least know +how to go about the search, he retained a firm of discreet, +well-recommended searchers for missing persons. With that he had to be +content. He still searched, but it was because he had to search; he had +to feel that he was trying, doing something, but no one realized the +uselessness of it more than himself. He was always looking for her, +scanned every face in the crowd, looked up at every window. + +In a day or two he was able to force himself to work steadily, +unremittingly again. The formula of his patent medicine, with which he +was to cure the ills of capital-labor, was taking definite shape, and +the professor was enthusiastic. Not that the professor felt any +certainty of effecting a permanent cure; he was enthusiastic over it as +a huge, splendid experiment. He wanted to see it working and how men +would react to it. He had even planned to write a book about it when it +should have been in operation long enough to show what its results +would be. + +Bonbright was sure. He felt that it would bridge the gulf between him +and his employees--that gulf which seemed now to be growing wider and +deeper instead of disappearing. Mershon's talk was full of labor +troubles, of threatened strikes, of consequent delays. + +"We can finish thirty days ahead of schedule," he said to Bonbright, +"if the unions leave us alone." + +"You think I ought to recognize them," Bonbright said. "Well, Mr. +Mershon, if labor wants to cut its own throat by striking--let it +strike. I'm giving it work. I'm giving it wages that equal or are +higher than union scale. They've no excuse for a strike. I'm willing to +do anything within reason, but I'm going to run my own concern. Before +I'll let this plant be unionized I'll shut it down. If I can't finish +the new shops without recognizing the unions, then they'll stand as +they are." + +"You're the boss," said Mershon, with a shrug. "Do you know there's to +be a mass meeting in the armory to-night? I think the agitator people +are going to try to work the men up to starting trouble." + +"You think they'll strike?" + +"I KNOW they will." + +"All the men, or just the steel workers and bricklayers and temporary +employees on the new buildings?" + +"I don't know.... But if any of them go out it's going to make things +mighty bad." + +"I'll see what can be done," said Bonbright. + +The strike must be headed off if possible. It would mean a monstrously +costly delay; it might mean a forfeiture of his contract with +Lightener. It might mean that he had gone into this new project and +expended hundreds of thousands of dollars to equip for the manufacture +of engines in vain.... The men must not strike. + +There seemed no way to avert it but to surrender, and that Bonbright +did not even consider.... He called in the professor. + +"The plan is practically complete, isn't it?" he asked. + +"I'd call it so. The skeleton is there and it's covered with flesh. +Some of the joints creak a little and maybe there's an ear or an +eyebrow missing.... But those are details." + +Bonbright nodded. "We'll try it out," he said. "To-night there's a mass +meeting--to stir our men up to strike. They mustn't strike, and I'm +going to stop them--with the plan." + +"Eh?" said the professor. + +"I'm going to the meeting," said Bonbright. + +"You're--young man, you're crazy." + +"I'm going to head off that strike. I'm going there and I'm going to +announce the plan." + +"They won't let you speak." + +"I think they will.... Curiosity will make them." + +The young man did understand something of human nature, thought the +professor. Curiosity would, most likely, get a hearing for him. + +"It's dangerous," said he. "The men aren't in a good humor. There might +be some fanatic there--" + +"It's a chance," said Bonbright, "but I've got to take it." + +"I'll go with you," said the professor. + +"No. I want to be there alone. This thing is between my men and me. +It's personal. We've got to settle it between ourselves." + +The professor argued, pleaded; but Bonbright was stubborn, and the +professor had previous acquaintance with Bonbright's stubbornness. Its +quality was that of tool steel. Bonbright had made up his mind to go +and to go alone. Nobody could argue him out of it. + +Bonbright did go alone. He went early in order to obtain a good +position in the hall, a mammoth gathering place capable of seating +three thousand people. He entered quietly, unostentatiously, and walked +to a place well toward the front, and he entered unobserved. The street +before the hall was full of arguing, gesticulating men. Inside were +other loudly talking knots, sweltering in the closeness of the place. +In corners, small impromptu meetings were listening to harangues not on +the evening's program. Already half the seats were taken by the less +emotional, more stolid men, who were content to wait in silence for the +real business of the meeting. There was an air of suspense, of +tenseness, of excitement. Bonbright could feel it. It made him tingle; +it gave him a sensation of vibrating emptiness resembling that of a man +descending in a swift elevator. + +Bonbright was not accustomed to public speaking, but, somehow, he did +not regard what he was about to say as a public speech. He did not +think of it as being kindred to oratory. He was there to talk business +with a gathering of his men, that was all. He knew what he was going to +say, and he was going to say it clearly, succinctly, as briefly as +possible. + +In half an hour the chairs on the platform were occupied by chairman, +speakers, union officials. The great hall was jammed, and hundreds +packed about the doors in the street without, unable to gain +admission.... The chairman opened the meeting briefly. Behind him +Bonbright saw Dulac, saw the members of the committee that had waited +on him, saw other men known to him only because he had seen their +pictures from time to time in the press. It was an imposing gathering +of labor thought. + +Bonbright had planned what he would do. It was best, he believed, to +catch the meeting before it had been excited by oratory, before it had +been lashed to anger. It was calmer, more reasonable now than it would +be again. He arose to his feet. + +"Mr. Chairman," he said, distinctly. + +The chairman paused; Bonbright's neighbors turned to stare; men all +over the hall rose and craned their necks to have a view of the +interrupter. + +"Sit down!...Shut up!" came cries from here and there. Then other +cries, angry cries. "It's Foote!... It's the boss! Out with him!... Out +with him!" + +"Mr. Chairman," said Bonbright, "I realize this is unusual, but I hope +you will allow me to be heard. Every man here must admit that I am +vitally interested in what takes place here to-night.... I come in a +friendly spirit, and I have something to say which is important to me +and to you. I ask you to hear me. I will be brief..." + +"Out with him!... No!... Throw him out!" came yells from the floor. The +house was on its feet, jostling, surging. Men near to Bonbright +hesitated. One man reached over the shoulders of his fellows and struck +at Bonbright. Another shoved him back. + +"Let him talk.... Let's hear him," arose counter-cries. The meeting +threatened to get beyond control, to become a mob. + +The chairman, familiar with the men he dealt with, acted quickly. He +turned to Dulac and whispered, then faced the hall with hands upheld. + +"Mr. Foote is here uninvited," he said. "He requests to be heard. Let +us show him that we are reasonable, that we are patient.... Mr. Dulac +agrees to surrender a portion of his time to Mr. Foote. Let us hear +what he has to say." + +Bonbright pushed his way toward the aisle and moved forward. Once he +stumbled, and almost fell, as a man thrust out a foot to trip him--and +the hall laughed. + +"Speak your piece. Speak it nice," somebody called, and there was +another laugh. This was healthier, safer. + +Bonbright mounted the platform and advanced to its edge. + +"Every man here," he said, "is an employee of mine. I have tried to +make you feel that your interests are my interests, but I seem to have +failed--or you would not be here. I have tried to prove that I want to +be something more than merely your employer, but you would not believe +me." + +"Your record's bad," shouted a man, and there was another laugh. + +"My record is bad," said Bonbright. "I could discuss that, but it +wouldn't change things. Since I have owned the mills my record has not +been bad. There are men here who could testify for me. All of you can +testify that conditions have been improved.... But I am not here to +discuss that. I am here to lay before you a plan I have been working +on. It is not perfect, but as it stands it is complete enough, so that +you can see what I am aiming at. This plan goes into effect the day the +new plant starts to operate." + +"Does it recognize the unions?" came from the floor. + +"No," said Bonbright. "Please listen carefully.... First it establishes +a minimum wage of five dollars a day. No man or woman in the plant, in +any capacity, shall be paid less than five dollars a day. Labor helps +to earn our profits and labor should share in them. That is fair. I +have set an arbitrary minimum of five dollars because there must be +some basis to work from...." + +The meeting was silent. It was nonplused. It was listening to the +impossible. Every man, every employee, should be paid five dollars a +day! + +"Does that mean common labor?" + +"It means everyone," said Bonbright. "It means the man who sweeps out +the office, the man who runs the elevator, the man who digs a ditch. +Every man does his share and every man shall have his share. + +"I want every man to live in decent comfort, and I want his wife and +babies to live in comfort. With these wages no man's wife need take in +washing nor work out by the day to help support the family. No man will +need to ask his wife to keep a boarder to add to the family's +earnings...." + +The men listened now. Bonbright's voice carried to every corner and +cranny of the hall. Even the men on the platform listened breathlessly +as he went on detailing the plan and its workings. Nothing like this +had ever happened before in the world's history. No such offer had ever +been made to workingmen by an employer capable of carrying out his +promises.... He told them what he wanted to do, and how he wanted to do +it. He told them what he wanted them to do to co-operate with him--of +an advisory board to be elected by the men, sharing in deliberations +that affected the employees, of means to be instituted to help the men +to save and to take care of their savings, of a strict eight-hour +day.... No union had ever dreamed of asking such terms of an employer. + +"How do we know you'll do it?" yelled a man. + +"You have my word," said Bonbright. + +"Rats!" + +"Shut up... shut up!" the objector was admonished. + +"That's all, men," Bonbright said. "Think it over. This plan is going +into effect. If you want to share in it you can do so, every one of +you.... Thank you for listening." + +Bonbright turned and sat down in a chair on the platform, anxious, +watching that sea of faces, waiting to see what would happen. + +Dulac leaped to his feet. "It's a bribe," he shouted. "It's nothing but +an attempt to buy your manhood for five dollars a day. We're righting +for a principle--not for money.... We're--" + +But his voice was drowned out. The meeting had taken charge of itself. +It wanted to listen to no oratory, but to talk over this thing that had +happened, to realize it, to weigh it, to determine what it meant to +them. Abstract principle must always give way to concrete fact. The men +who fight for principle are few. The fight is to live, to earn, to +continue to exist. Men who had never hoped to earn a hundred dollars a +month; men who had for a score of years wielded pick and shovel for two +dollars a day or less, saw, with eyes that could hardly believe, thirty +dollars a week. It was wealth! It was that thirty dollars that gripped +them now, not the other things. Appreciation of them would come later, +but now it was the voice of money that was in their ears. What could a +man do with five dollars a day? He could live--not merely exist.... The +thing that could not be had come to pass. + +Dulac shouted, demanded their attention. He might as well have tried to +still the breakers that roared upon a rocky shore. Dulac did not care +for money. He was a revolutionist, a thinker, a man whose work lay with +conditions, not with individuals. Here every man was thinking as an +individual; applying that five dollars a day to his own peculiar, +personal affairs.... Already men were hurrying out of the hall to carry +the amazing tidings home to their wives. + +Dulac stormed on. + +One thing was apparent to Bonbright. The men believed him. They +believed he had spoken the truth. He had known they would believe him; +somehow he had known that. The thing had swept them off their feet. In +all that multitude was not a man whose life was not to be made easier, +whose wife and children were not to be happier, more comfortable, +removed from worry. It was a moving sight to see those thousands react. +They were drunk with it. + +An old man detached himself from the mass and rushed upon the platform. +"It's true?... It's true?" he said, with tears running down his face. + +"It's true," said Bonbright, standing up and offering his hand. + +That was the first of hundreds. Some one shouted, hoarsely, "Hurrah for +Foote!" and the armory trembled with the shout. + +The thing was done. The thing he had come to do was accomplished. There +would be no strike. + +Dulac had fallen silent, was sitting in his chair with his face hidden. +For him this was a defeat, a bitter blow. + +Bonbright made his way to him. + +"Mr. Dulac," he said, "have you found her?" + +"You've bribed them.... You've bought them," Dulac said, bitterly. + +"I've given them what is theirs fairly.... Have you found any trace of +her?" Even in this moment, which would have thrilled, exalted another, +which would have made another man drunk with achievement, Bonbright +could think of Ruth. Even now Ruth was uppermost in his mind. All this +mattered nothing beside her. "Have you got any trace?" he asked. + +"No," said Dulac. + + + + +CHAPTER XXXIV + + +Next morning the whole city breakfasted with Bonbright Foote. His name +was on the tongue of every man who took in a newspaper, and of +thousands to whom the news of his revolutionary profit-sharing or +minimum-wage plan was carried by word of mouth. It was the matter of +wages that excited everyone. In those first hours they skipped the +details of the plan, those details which had taken months of labor and +thought to devise. It was only the fact that a wealthy manufacturer was +going to pay a minimum wage of five dollars a day. + +The division between capital and labor showed plainly in the reception +of the news. Capital berated Bonbright; labor was inclined to +fulsomeness. Capital called him on the telephone to remonstrate and to +state its opinion of him as a half-baked idiot of a young idealist who +was upsetting business. Labor put on its hat and stormed the gates of +Bonbright Foote, Incorporated, seeking for five-dollar jobs. Not +hundreds of them came, but thousands. The streets were blocked with +applicants, every one eager for that minimum wage. The police could not +handle the mob. It was there for a purpose and it intended to stay.... +When it was rebuked, or if some one tried to tell them there were no +jobs for it, it threw playful stones through the windows. It was there +at dawn; it still remained at dark. + +A man who had an actual job at Bonbright Foote, Incorporated, was a +hero, an object of admiring interest to his friends and neighbors. The +thing touched him. There had been a miraculous laying on of hands, +under which had passed away poverty. So must the friends and +acquaintances of a certain blind man whose sight was restored by a bit +of divine spittle have regarded him. + +Malcolm Lightener did not content himself with telephoning. He came in +person to say his say to Bonbright, and he said it with point and +emphasis. + +"I thought I taught you some sense in my shop," he said, as he burst +into Bonbright's office. "What's this I hear now? What idiocy are you +up to? Is this infernal newspaper story true?" + +"Substantially," said Bonbright. + +"You're crazy. What are you trying to do? Upset labor conditions in +this town so that business will go to smash? I thought you had a level +head. I had confidence in you--and here you go, shooting off a +half-cocked, wild-eyed, socialistic thing! Did you stop to think what +effect this thing would have on other manufacturers?" + +"Yes," said Bonbright. + +"It'll pull labor down on us. They'll say we can afford to pay such +wages if you can." + +"Well," said Bonbright, "can't you?" + +"You've sowed a fine crop of discontent. It's damned unfair. You'll +have every workingman in town flocking to you. You'll get the pick of +labor." + +"That's good business, isn't it?" Bonbright asked, with a smile. "Now, +Mr. Lightener, there isn't any use thrashing me. The plan is going into +effect. It isn't half baked. I haven't gone off half cocked. It is +carefully planned and thought out--and it will work. There'll be +flurries for a few days, and then things will come back to the normal +for you fellows.... I wish it wouldn't. You're a lot better able than I +am to do what I'm doing, and you know it. If you can, you ought to." + +"No man has a right to go ahead deliberately and upset business." + +"I'm not upsetting it. I'm merely being fair, and that's what business +should have been years ago. I'm able to pay a five-dollar minimum, and +labor earns it. Then it ought to have it. If you can pay only a +four-dollar minimum, then you should pay it. Labor earns it for you.... +If there's a man whose labor earns for him only a dollar and +seventy-five cents a day, and that man pays it, he's doing as much at I +am..." + +"Bonbright," said Malcolm Lightener, getting to his feet, "I'm damn +disappointed in you." + +"Come in a year and tell me so, then I'll listen to you," said +Bonbright. + +"This nonsense won't last a year. It won't pan out. You'll have to give +it up, and then what? You'll be in a devil of a pickle, won't you?" + +"All you see is that five dollars. In a day or two the whole plan will +be ready. I'm having it printed in a pamphlet, and I'll send you one. +If you read it carefully and can come back and tell me it's nonsense, +then I don't know you. You might let me go under suspended sentence at +least." + +Lightener shrugged his heavy shoulders. "Take one chunk of advice," he +said. "Keep away from the club for a few days. If the boys feel the way +I do they're apt to take you upstairs and drown you in a bathtub." + +That was the side of the affair that Bonbright saw most during the day. +Telephone messages, letters, telegrams, poured in and cluttered his +desk. After a while he ceased to open them, for they were all alike; +all sent to say the same thing that Malcolm Lightener had said. Capital +looked upon him as a Judas and flayed him with the sharpest words they +could choose. + +He read all the papers, but the papers reflected the estimated thought +of their subscribers. But to all of them the news was the big news of +the day. No headline was too large to announce it... But the papers, +even those with capitalistic leanings, were afraid to be too outspoken. +Gatherers of news come to have some knowledge of human nature, and +these men saw deeper and farther and quicker than the Malcolm +Lighteners. They did not commit themselves so far but that a drawing +back and realignment would be possible... No little part of Bonbright's +day was spent with reporters. + +The news came to every house in the city. It came even to Mrs. Moody's +obscure boarding house, and the table buzzed with it. It mounted the +stairs with Mrs. Moody to the room where Ruth lay apathetically in her +bed, not stronger, not weaker, taking no interest in life. + +Mrs. Moody sat daily beside Ruth's bed and talked or read. She read +papers aloud and books aloud, and grumbled. Ruth paid slight attention, +but lay gazing up at the ceiling, or closed her eyes and pretended she +was asleep. She didn't care what was going on in the world. What did it +matter, for she believed she was going to leave the world shortly. The +prospect did not frighten her, nor did it gladden her. She was +indifferent to it. + +Mrs. Moody sat down in her rocker and looked at Ruth triumphantly. +"I'll bet this'll interest you," she said. "I'll bet when I read this +you won't lay there and pertend you don't hear. If you do it's because +somethin's wrong with your brains, that's all I got to say. Sick or +well, it's news to stir up a corpse." + +She began to read. The first words caught Ruth's attention. The words +were Bonbright Foote. She closed her eyes, but listened. Her thoughts +were not clear; her mental processes were foggy, but the words Mrs. +Moody was reading were important to her. She realized that. It was +something she had once been interested in--terribly interested in... +She tried to concentrate on them; tried to comprehend. Presently she +interrupted, weakly: + +"Who--who is it--about?" she asked. + +"Bonbright Foote, the manufacturer. I read it out plain." + +"Yes... What is it?... I didn't--understand very well. What did he--do?" + +Mrs. Moody began again, impatiently. This time it was clearer to Ruth +... Once she had tried to do something like this thing she was hearing +about--and that was why she was here... It had something to do with her +being sick... And with Bonbright... It was hard to remember. + +"Even the floor sweepers git it," said Mrs. Moody, interpreting the +news story. "Everybody gits five dollars a day at least, and some gits +more." + +"Everybody?..." said Ruth. "HE'S--giving it to--them?" + +"This Mr. Foote is. Yes." + +Suddenly Ruth began to cry, weakly, feebly. "I didn't help," she +wailed, like an infant. Her voice was no stronger. "He did it +alone--all alone... I wasn't there..." + +"No, you was right here. Where would you be?" + +"I wonder--if he did--it--for me?" Her voice was piteous, pleading. + +"For you? What in goodness name have YOU got to do with it? He did it +for all them men--thousands of 'em.... And jest think what it'll mean +to 'em!... It'll be like heaven comin' to pass." + +"What--have I--got to do--with it?" Ruth repeated, and then cried out +with grief. "Nothing... Nothing.... NOTHING. If I'd never been born--he +would have done it--just the same." + +"To be sure," said Mrs. Moody, wondering. "I guess your head hain't +jest right to-day." + +"Read... Please read... Every word. Don't miss a word." + +"Well, I swan! You be int'rested. I never see the like." And the good +woman read on, not skipping a word. + +Ruth followed as best she could, seeing dimly, but, seeing that the +thing that was surpassed was the thing she had once sacrificed herself +in a futile effort to bring about... It was rather vague, that past +time in which she had striven and suffered... But she had hoped to do +something... What was it she had done? It was something about +Bonbright... What was it? It had been hard, and she had suffered. She +tried to remember.... And then remembrance came. She had MARRIED him! + +"He's good--so good," she said, tearfully. "I shouldn't have--done it +... I should have--trusted him... because I knew he was good--all the +tune." + +"Who was good?" asked Mrs. Moody. + +"My husband," said Ruth. + +"For the land sakes, WHAT'S HE got to do with this? Hain't you +listenin' at all?" + +"I'm listening... I'm listening. Don't stop." + +Memory was becoming clearer, the fog was being blown away, and the past +was showing in sharper outline. Events were emerging into distinctness. +She stared at the ceiling with widening eyes, listening to Mrs. Moody +as the woman stumbled on; losing account of the reading as her mind +wandered off into the past, searching, finding, identifying... She had +been at peace. She had not suffered. She had lain in a lethargy which +held away sharp sorrow and bitter thoughts. They were now working their +way through to her, piercing her heart. + +"Oh!..." she cried. "Oh!..." + +"What ails you now? You're enough to drive a body wild. What you +cryin'about? Say!" + +"I--I love him... That's why I hid away--because I--loved him--and--and +his father died. That was it. I remember now. I couldn't bear it..." + +"Was it him or his father you was in love with?" asked Mrs. Moody, +acidly. + +"I--hated his father... But when he died I couldn't tell HIM--I loved +him... He wouldn't have believed me." + +"Say," said Mrs. Moody, suddenly awakening to the possibilities of +Ruth's mood, "who was your husband, anyhow?" + +Ruth shook her head. "I--can't tell you... You'd tell him... He mustn't +find me--because I--couldn't bear it." + +The mercenary came to the door. "Young woman at the door wants to see +you," she said. + +"Always somebody. Always trottin' up and down stairs. Seems like a body +never gits a chance to rest her bones.... I'm comin'. Say I'll be right +downstairs." + +In the parlor Mrs. Moody found a young woman of a world with which +boarding houses have little acquaintance. She glanced through the +window, and saw beside the curb a big car with a liveried chauffeur. "I +vum!" she said to herself. + +"I'm Mrs. Moody, miss," she said. "What's wanted?" + +"I'm looking for a friend... I'm just inquiring here because you're on +my list of boarding houses. I guess I've asked at two hundred if I've +asked at one." + +"What's your friend's name? Man or woman?" + +"Her name is Foote. Ruth Foote." + +"No such person here... We got Richards and Brown and Judson, and a lot +of 'em, but no Foote." + +The young woman sighed. "I'm getting discouraged.... I am afraid she's +ill somewhere. It's been months, and I can't find a trace. She's such a +little thing, too.... Maybe she's changed her name. Quite likely." + +"Is she hidin' away?" asked Mrs. Moody. + +"Yes--you might say that. Not hiding because she DID anything, but +because--her heart was broken." + +"Um!... Little, was she? Sort of peaked and thin?" + +"Yes." + +"Ever hear the name of Frazer?" + +"Why, Mrs. Moody--do you--That was her name before she was married ..." + +"You come along with me," ordered Mrs. Moody, and led the way up the +stairs. "Be sort of quietlike. She's sick..." + +Mrs. Moody opened Ruth's door and pointed in. "Is it her?" she asked. + +Hilda did not answer. She was across the room in an instant and on her +knees beside the bed. + +"Ruth!... Ruth!... how could you?..." she cried. + +Ruth turned her head slowly and looked at Hilda. There was no light of +gladness in her eyes; instead they were veiled with trouble. "Hilda..." +she said. "I didn't--want to be found. Go away and--and unfind me." + +"You poor baby!... You poor, absurd, silly baby!" said Hilda, passing +her arm under Ruth's shoulders and drawing the wasted little body to +her closely. "I've looked for you, and looked. You've no idea the +trouble you've made for me... And now I'm going to take you home. I'm +going to snatch you up and bundle you off." + +"No," said Ruth, weakly. "Nobody must know... HE--mustn't know." + +"Fiddlesticks!" "Do you know?... He's done something--but it wasn't for +me... I didn't have ANYTHING to do with it... Do you know what he's +done?" + +"I know," said Hilda. "It was splendid. Dad's all worked up over it, +but I think it is splendid just the same." "Splendid," said Ruth, +slowly, thoughtfully--"splendid... Yes, that's it--SPLENDID." She +seemed childishly pleased to discover the word, and repeated it again +and again. + +Presently she turned her eyes up to Hilda's face, lifted a white, +blue-veined, almost transparent hand, and touched Hilda's face. +"I"--she seemed to have difficulty to find a word, but she smiled like +a tiny little girl--"I--LIKE you," she said, triumphantly. "I'm--sorry +you came--but I--like you." + +"Yes, dear," said Hilda. "You'd BETTER like me." + +"But," said Ruth, evidently striving to express a differentiation, +"I--LOVE him." + +Hilda said nothing; there was nothing she could say, but her eyes +brimmed at the pitifulness of it. She abhorred tears. + +"I'm going now, dear," she said. "I'll fix things for you and be back +in no time to take you home with me.... So be all ready." + +"No..." said Ruth. + +"Yes," Hilda laughed. "You'll help, won't you, Mrs. Moody?" + +"Hain't no way out of it, I calc'late," said the woman. + +"I won't be half an hour, Ruth... Good-by." + +But Ruth had turned away her face and would not answer. + +"Say," said Mrs. Moody, in a fever of curiosity which could not be held +in check after they had passed outside of Ruth's room, "who is she, +anyhow?... SOMEBODY, I'll perdict. Hain't she somebody?" + +"She's Mrs. Foote... Mrs. Bonbright Foote." + +"I SWAN to man!... And me settin' there readin' to her about him. If it +don't beat all... Him with all them millions, and her without so much +as a nest like them beasts and birds of the air, in Scripture. I never +expected nothin' like this would ever happen to me..." Hilda saw that +Mrs. Moody was glorifying God in her heart that this amazing adventure, +this bit out of a romance, had come into her drab life. + +"Is that there your auto?" Mrs. Moody asked, peering out with awe at +the liveried chauffeur. + +Hilda nodded. "And who be you, if I might ask?" Mrs. Moody said. + +"My name is Hilda Lightener, Mrs. Moody." + +"Not that automobile man's daughter--the one they call the automobile +king?" + +"They call dad lots of things," said Hilda, with a sympathetic laugh. +She liked Mrs. Moody. "I'll be back directly," she said, and left the +good woman standing in an attitude suggestive of mental prostration, +actually, literally, gasping at this marvel that had blossomed under +her very eyes. + +As Hilda's car moved away she turned, picked up her skirts, and ran +toward the kitchen. The news was bursting out of her. She was leaking +it along the way as she sought the mercenary to pour it into her ears. + +Hilda was driving, not to her home, but to Bonbright Foote's office. + + + + +CHAPTER XXXV + + +Dulac was on his way to Bonbright's office, too. He had started before +Hilda, and arrived before she did. If he had been asked why he was +going, it is doubtful if he could have told. He was going because he +had to go... with fresh, burning hatred of Bonbright in his heart. +Bonbright was always the obstacle he encountered. Bonbright upset every +calculation, brought his every plan to nothing. He believed it was +Bonbright who had broken the first strike, that strike upon which he +had pinned such high hopes and which meant so much to labor. It had +been labor's entering wedge into the automobile world. Then Bonbright +had married the girl he loved. Some men can hate sufficiently for that +cause alone... Ruth had loved him, but she had married Bonbright. He +had gone to take her away, had seen her yielding to him--and Bonbright +had come. Again he had intervened. And now, better equipped than for +the first strike, with chances of success multiplied, Bonbright had +intervened again--with his plan. + +Dulac did not consider the plan; did not perceive virtues in it, not +the intent that was behind it. He did not see that labor was getting +without effort benefits that no strike could bring. He did not see the +happiness that it brought to thousands... All he saw was that it had +killed the new strike before birth. He regarded it as sharp practice, +as a scheme for his undoing. The thing he fought for was the principle +of unionization. Nothing else mattered; not money, not comforts, not +benefits multiplied could weigh against it... He was true to his creed, +honest in its prosecution, sincere in his beliefs and in his efforts to +uplift the conditions of his fellow men. He was a fanatic, let it be +admitted, but a fanatic who suffered and labored for his cause. He was +stigmatized as a demagogue, and many of the attributes of the demagogue +adhered to him. But he was not a demagogue, for he sought nothing for +himself... His great shortcoming was singleness of vision. He fixed his +eyes upon one height and was unable to see surrounding peaks. + +So he was going to see the man who had come between him and every +object he had striven for... And he did not know why. He followed +impulse, as he was prone to follow impulse. Restraints were not for +him; he was a thinker, he believed, and after his fashion he WAS a +thinker.... But his mind was equipped with no stabilizer. + +The impulse to see Bonbright was conceived in hatred and born in +bitterness. It was such an impulse as might, in its turn, breed +children capable of causing a calloused world to pause an instant on +its way and gasp with horror. + +He brushed aside the boy who asked his business with Mr. Foote, and +flung open Bonbright's door. On the threshold he stood speechless, +tense with hatred, eyes that smoldered with jealousy, with rage, +burning in hollows dug by weariness and labor and privation. He closed +the door behind him slowly. + +Bonbright looked up and nodded. Dulac did not reply, but stared, +crouching a little, his lips drawn a trifle back so that a glint of +white showed between. + +"You wanted to see me?" said Bonbright. + +"Yes," said Dulac. The word was spoken so low, so tensely, that it +hardly reached Bonbright's ears. That was all. He said no more, but +stood, haggard and menacing. + +Bonbright eyed him, saw his drawn face, saw the hatred in his eyes. +Neither spoke, but eye held eye. Bonbright's hand moved toward a button +on his desk, but did not touch it. Somehow he was not surprised, not +startled, not afraid--yet he knew there was danger. A word, a movement, +might unleash the passions that seethed within Dulac.... + +Dulac stepped one step toward Bonbright, and paused. The movement was +catlike, graceful. It had not been willed by Dulac. He had been drawn +that step as iron is drawn to magnet. His eyes did not leave +Bonbright's. Bonbright's eyes did not leave Dulac's. + +It seemed minutes before Dulac made another forward movement, slowly, +not lifting his foot, but sliding it along the rug to its new +position.... Then immovability.... Then another feline approach. Step +after step, with that tense pause between--and silence! + +It seemed to Bonbright that Dulac had been in the room for hours, had +taken hours to cross it to his desk. Now only the desk separated them, +and Dulac bent forward, rested his clenched fists on the desk, and held +Bonbright's eyes with the fire of his own.... His body moved now, +bending from the waist. Not jerkily, not pausing, but slowly, slowly, +as if he were being forced downward by a giant hand. ... His face +approached Bonbright's face. And still no word, no sound. + +Now his right hand moved, lifted. He supported his weight on his left +arm. The right moved toward Bonbright, opening as it moved. There was +something inexorable about its movement, something that seemed to say +it did not move by Dulac's will, but that it had been ordained so to +move since the beginning of time.... It approached and opened, fingers +bent clawlike. + +Bonbright remained motionless. It seemed to him that all the conflict +of the ages had centered itself in this man and himself; as if they +were the chosen champions, and the struggle had been left to them... He +was ready. He did not seek to avoid it, because it seemed inevitable. +There could never be peace between him and Dulac, and, strangely +enough, the thought was present in his brain that the thing was +symbolical. He was the champion of his class, Dulac the champion of HIS +class--between which there could never be peace and agreement so long +as the classes existed. He wondered if himself and Dulac had been +appointed to abolish each other... In those vibrating seconds Bonbright +saw and comprehended much. + +The hand still approached. + +Bonbright saw a change in the fire of Dulac's eyes, a sudden upleaping +blaze, and braced himself for the surge of resistance, the shock of +combat. + +The door opened unheeded by either, and Hilda stood in the opening. + +"I've found her..." she said. + +Dulac uttered a gulping gasp and closed his eyes, that had been +unwinking, closed his eyes a moment, and with their closing the +tenseness went out of him and he sagged downward so that his body +rested on the desk. Bonbright shoved himself back and leaped to his +feet. + +"Hilda..." he said, and his voice was tired; the voice of a man who has +undergone the ultimate strain. + +"I've found her. She's ill--terribly ill. You must go to her." + +Dulac raised himself and looked at her. + +"You've found--HER?" he said. + +"We must go to her," said Bonbright. He was not speaking to Hilda, but +to Dulac. It seemed natural, inevitable, that Dulac should go with him. +Dulac was IN this, a part of it. Ruth and Dulac and he were the three +actors in this thing, and it was their lives that pivoted about it. + +They went down to the car silently, Dulac breathing deeply, like a man +who had labored to weariness. In silence they drove to Mrs. Moody's +boarding house, and in silence they climbed the stairs to Ruth's little +room. Mrs. Moody hovered about behind them, and the mercenary sheltered +her body behind the kitchen door, her head through the narrow opening, +looking as if she were ready to pop it back at the least startling +movement. + +The three entered softly. Ruth seemed to be sleeping, for her eyes were +closed and she was very still. Bonbright stood at one side of her bed, +Dulac stood across from him, but they were unconscious of each other. +Both were looking downward upon Ruth. She opened her eyes, saw +Bonbright standing over her; shut them again and moved her head +impatiently. Again she opened her eyes, and looked from Bonbright to +Dulac. Her lips parted, her eyes widened... She pointed a trembling +finger at Dulac. + +"Not you..." she whispered. "Not you... HIM." She moved her finger +until it indicated Bonbright. + +"I don't--believe you're--really there... either of you," she said, +"but I--like to have--YOU here.... You're my husband.... I LOVE my +husband," she said, and nodded her head. + +"BONBRIGHT!" whispered Hilda. + +He did not need the admonition, but was on his knees beside her, +drawing her to him. He could not speak. Ruth sighed as she felt his +touch. "You're REAL," she whispered. "Is he real, too?" + +"We're all real, dear," said Hilda. + +"Ask HIM--please to go away, then," Ruth said, pointing to Dulac. "I +don't want to--hurt him... but he knows I--don't want him...." + +"Ruth!" Dulac's utterance was a groan. + +"YOU know--don't you, Hilda?... I told you--a long time ago... I never +loved--HIM at all. Isn't that--queer?... I thought I did--but--I didn't +know... It was something else... You won't feel too bad ... will you?" + +Ruth looked up at Dulac. "I think you--better--go," she said, gently. +He looked at Ruth, looked at Bonbright. Then he turned and, stumbling a +little as he went, fumbling, to open the door, he obeyed. They listened +in silence to the slow descent of his footsteps; to the opening and +closing of the door, as Dulac passed out into the street. + +"Poor--man!" said Ruth. + +"Bonbright," said Hilda, "do you believe me now?" + +He nodded. Hilda moved toward the door. "If you want her--cure her ... +Nobody else can. You've got the only medicine." And she left them alone. + +"I--loved you all the time, but... I didn't know... I was going... to +tell you... and then HE died. Hilda knows. You'll... believe me, won't +you?" + +"Yes," was all he could say. + +"And you... want me back? You... want me to be your... wife?" + +"Yes." + +She sighed happily. "I'll get... well, then... It wasn't worth the--the +BOTHER before." + +Neither of them spoke for a time; then she said: "I saw about it... in +the papers. It was... splendid." She used proudly the word Hilda had +found for her. "I was... proud." + +Then: "You haven't... said anything. Isn't there... something you ... +ought to say?" + +He bent over closer and whispered it in her ear, not once, but many +times. She shut her eyes, but her lips smiled and her fragile arms drew +his head even closer, her white hand stroked his cheek. + +"If it's all... REAL," she said, "why don't you... KISS me?" + +Words were not for him. Here was a moment when those symbols for +thoughts which we have agreed upon and called words, could not express +what must be expressed. As there are tones too high or too low to be +sounded on any instrument, so too there are thoughts too tender to be +expressed by words. + +"Do you really... WANT me?" She wanted to be told and told again and +again. "I'll be a... nice wife," she said. "I promise... I think we'll +be... very happy." + +"Yes," he said. + +"I'll never... run away any more... will I?" + +"No." + +"You'll--keep me CLOSE?" + +"Yes." + +"Always?" + +"Always." + +"And you won't... remember ANYTHING?" + +"Nothing you don't want me to." + +"Tell me again... Put your... lips close to my ear... like that ... now +tell me... + +"I think I'll... sleep a little now... You won't run away--while my +eyes are shut?" + +"Never," he said. + +"Let me put my head... on your arm... like that." She closed her eyes, +and then opened them to smile up at him. "This is... so nice," she said. + +When she opened her eyes again Bonbright was still there. He had not +moved... Her smile blossomed for him again, and it was something like +her old, famous smile, but sweeter, more tender. + +"I didn't... dream a bit of it," she said to herself. + +Hilda came in. "We're going to take her to our house, Bonbright, till +she gets well. That's best, isn't it?" + +"Yes." + +"You'll come, won't you, Ruth--now?" + +"If my... husband comes, too," she said. + + + + +CHAPTER XXXVI + + +Ruth's strength returned miraculously, for it had not been her body +that was ill, but her soul, and her soul was well now and at peace. +Once she had thought that just to be at peace would be perfect bliss. +She knew better now, for she was at peace, and happiness was hers, +besides.... It was pitiful how she clung to Bonbright, how she held him +back when he would be leaving in the morning, and how she watched the +door for his return. + +Bonbright knew peace, too. Sometimes it seemed that the conflict was +over for him and that he had sailed into a sure and quiet haven where +no storm could reach him again. All that he had lacked was his; +independence was his and the possibility of developing his own +individualism. The ghosts of the ancestors were laid; Bonbright Foote, +Incorporated, was no longer a mold that sought to grasp him and turn +him into something he was not and did not wish to be. The plan was +proving itself, demonstrating its right to be. Even Malcolm Lightener +was silenced, for the thing marched. It possessed vitals. Nor had it +upset business, as Lightener once predicted. After the first tumult and +flurry labor had settled back into its old ways. The man who worked for +Bonbright Foote was envied, and that man and his family prospered and +knew a better, bigger life. The old antagonism of his employees had +vanished and he had become a figure to call out their enthusiasm. He +believed every man of them was his friend, and, more than that, he +believed he had found the solution to the great problem. He believed he +had found a way of bringing together capital and labor so that they +would lie down together like the millennial lion and lamb... All these +things made for peace. But in addition he had Ruth's love, and that +brought back his old boyishness, gave him something he had never had +before, even in his youth--a love of life, a love of living, a gladness +that awoke with him and accompanied him through his days. + +When Ruth was able to sit up they began to lay out their future and to +plan plans. Already Bonbright was building a home, and the delight they +had from studying architect's drawings and changing the position of +baths and doors and closets and porches was unbelievable. Then came the +furnishing of it, and at last the moving into it. + +"I'm almost glad it all happened," Ruth said. + +"Yes," said Bonbright. + +"We'd have been just ordinarily happy if we'd started like other +folks... But to have gone through that--and come into all this!..." + +"Let's not remember it," he said. Then: "Ruth, you never make any +suggestions--about the men. You know lots more about them than I do. +You were born among them. But you just listen to me when I talk to you, +and never offer a word." + +"I--I've been afraid to," she said. + +"Afraid?" + +"Yes... Don't you remember? It might look as if..." + +He silenced her, knowing what was her thought. "I'll never think +anything about you that isn't so," he said. + +"Then I'll suggest--when I think of anything. But I couldn't have +suggested any of it. I couldn't have dreamed it or hoped it. Nothing I +could have asked for them would have been as--as splendid as this." + +"You believe in it?" + +"More than that. I've been into their homes. They were glad to see me. +It was wonderful... Enough to eat, cleanliness, mothers at home with +their babies instead of out washing, no boarders... And no worries. +That was best. They showed me their bank accounts, or how they were +buying homes, and how quickly they were paying for them... And I was +proud when I thought it was my husband that did it." + +"Lightener says it looks all right now, but it won't last. He says it's +impractical." + +"He doesn't know. How could he know as well as you do? Aren't you the +greatest man in the world?" She said it half laughingly, but in her +heart she meant it. + +She loved to talk business with him; to hear about the new mills and +how they were turning out engines. She discussed his project of +enlarging further, perhaps of manufacturing automobiles himself, and +urged him on. "It will give work to more men, and bring more men under +the plan," she said. That was her way of looking at it. + +Hilda came often, and laughed at them, but she loved them. + +"Just kids," she jeered, but she envied them and told them so. And +then, because she deserved it, there came a man into her own life, and +he loved her and she loved him. Whereupon Bonbright and Ruth returned +her jeers with interest. + +More than a year went by, a year of perfection. Then came a cloud on +the horizon. Even five dollars a day and the plan did not seem to +content labor, and Bonbright became aware of it. Dulac was active +again, or, rather, he had always been active. Discontent manifested +itself.... It grew, and had to be repressed. In spite of the plan--in +spite of everything, a strike threatened, became imminent. + +Ruth was thunderstruck, Bonbright bewildered. His panacea was not a +panacea, then. He studied the plan to better it, and did make minor +improvements, but in its elements it was just, fair. Bonbright could +not understand, but Malcolm Lightener understood and the professor of +sociology understood. + +"I can't understand it," Bonbright said to them. + +"Huh!" grunted Lightener. "It's just this: You're capital, and they're +labor. That's it in a nutshell." + +"But it's fair." + +"To be sure it's fair--as fair as a thing can be. But the fact remains. +Capital and labor can't get together as long as they remain capital and +labor." + +The professor nodded. "You've said the thing that is, Mr. Lightener. +But it's deeper than that. It's the inevitable surge upward of +humanity. You rich men try to become richer. That is natural. You are +reaching up. Labor has a long way to climb to reach you, but it wants +to reach you. Perhaps it doesn't know it, but it does. As long as a +height remains to be climbed to, man will try to climb... Class exists. +The employer class and the employed. So long as one man can boss +another; so long as one man can say to another, 'Do this or do that,' +there will be conflict. Everybody, whether he knows it or not, wants to +be his own boss, and by as much as he is bossed he is galled ... It can +never be otherwise..." + +"You knew from the beginning I would fail," said Bonbright. + +"You haven't failed, my boy. You've done a fine thing; but you haven't +solved a problem that has no solution... You are upset by it now, but +after a while you'll see it and the disappointment will go. But you +haven't failed... I don't believe you will ever understand all you have +accomplished." + +But Bonbright was unhappy, and he carried his unhappiness to his wife. +"It's all been futile," he said. + +She was wiser than he. "No," she said, hotly, "it's been wonderful ... +Nothing was ever more wonderful. I've told you how I've visited them +and seen the new happiness--seen women happy who had never been happy +before; seen comfort where there had been nothing but misery ... It's +anything but futile, dear. You've done your best--and it was a splendid +best... If it doesn't do all you hoped, that's no sign of failure. I'm +satisfied, dear." + +"They want something I can't give them." + +"Nobody can give it to them... It's the way things are. I think I +understand what the professor said. It's true. You've given all you can +and done all you can.... You'd have to be God and create a new world... +Don't you see?" + +"I see..." he said. "I see..." + +"And you won't be unhappy about it?" + +He smiled. "I'm like the men, I guess. I want more than the world has +to give me... I don't blame them. They're right." + +"Yes," she said, "they're right." + +It was not many weeks after this that Bonbright sat, frightened and +anxious, in the library--waiting. A nurse appeared in the door and +motioned. She smiled, and a weight passed from his heart. + +Bonbright followed into Ruth's room, pausing timidly at the door. + +"Come in, come in, young man. I have the pleasure to announce the safe +arrival of Bonbright Foote VIII." + +Bonbright looked at Ruth, who smiled up at him and shook her head. + +"Not Bonbright Foote VIII, doctor," said Bonbright, as he moved toward +his wife and son. "Plain Bonbright Foote. There are no numerals in this +family. Everyone who is born into it stands by himself... I'll have no +ancestors hanging around my boy's neck..." + +"I know it," Ruth whispered in his ear, "but I was a--a teeny +bit--afraid. He's OURS--but he's more than that. He's HIS OWN... as God +wants every man to be." + +THE END + + + + + + + + + + +End of the Project Gutenberg EBook of Youth Challenges, by Clarence B. 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You can also find out about how to make a +donation to Project Gutenberg, and how to get involved. + + +**Welcome To The World of Free Plain Vanilla Electronic Texts** + +**eBooks Readable By Both Humans and By Computers, Since 1971** + +*****These eBooks Were Prepared By Thousands of Volunteers!***** + + +Title: Youth Challenges + +Author: Clarence B Kelland + +Release Date: May, 2004 [EBook #5797] +[Yes, we are more than one year ahead of schedule] +[This file was first posted on September 2, 2002] + +Edition: 10 + +Language: English + +Character set encoding: ASCII + +*** START OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK YOUTH CHALLENGES *** + + + + +Produced by Charles Franks and the Online Distributed Proofreading Team. + + + + +Youth Challenges + +By + +CLARENCE BUDINGTON KELLAND + +AUTHOR OF + +"The Little Moment of Happiness," "The High Flyers," "Sudden Jim," +"The Source," "The Hidden Spring," etc. + + + + + + +CHAPTER I + + +Bonbright Foote VI arose and stood behind the long table which served +him as a desk and extended his hand across it. His bearing was that +of a man taking a leading part in an event of historic importance. + +"My son," said he, "it gratifies me to welcome you to your place in +this firm." Then he smiled. When Bonbright Foote VI smiled it was as +though he said to himself, "To smile one must do thus and so with the +features," and then systematically put into practice his +instructions. It was a cultured smile, one that could have been +smiled only by a gentleman conscious of generations of correct +antecedents; it was an aristocratic smile. On the whole it was not +unpleasant, though so excellently and formally done. + +"Thank you, father," replied Bonbright Foote VII. "I hope I shall be +of some use to you." + +"Your office is ready for you," said his father, stepping to a door +which he unlocked with the gravity of a man laying a corner stone. +"This door," said he, "has not been opened since I took my place at +the head of the business--since I moved from the desk you are to +occupy to the one in this room. It will not be closed again until the +time arrives for you to assume command. We have--we Footes--always +regarded this open door as a patent token of partnership between +father and son." + +Young Foote was well acquainted with this--as a piece of his family's +regalia. He knew he was about to enter and to labor in the office of +the heir apparent, a room which had been tenantless since the death +of his grandfather and the consequent coronation of his father. Such +was the custom. For twelve years that office had been closed and +waiting. None had ventured into it, except for a janitor whose weekly +dustings and cleanings had been performed with scrupulous care. He +knew that Bonbright Foote VI had occupied the room for seventeen +years. Before that it had stood vacant eleven years awaiting for +Bonbright Foote VI to reach such age and attainments as were +essential. Young Foote realized that upon the death of his father the +office would be closed again until his son, Bonbright Foote VIII, +should be equipped, by time and the university founded by John +Harvard, to enter as he was entering to-day. So the thing had been +done since the first Bonbright Foote invested Bonbright Foote II with +dignities and powers. + +Father and son entered the long-closed office, a large, indeed a +stately room. It contained the same mahogany table at which Bonbright +Foote II had worked; the same chairs, the same fittings, the same +pictures hung on the walls, that had been the property of the first +crown prince of the Foote dynasty. It was not a bright place, +suggestive of liveliness or gayety, but it was decorously inviting--a +place in which one could work with comfort and satisfaction. + +"Let me see you at your desk," said the father, smiling again. "I +have looked forward to seeing you there, just as you will look +forward to seeing YOUR son there." + +Bonbright sat down, wondering if his father had felt oppressed as HE +felt oppressed at this moment. He had a feeling of stepping from one +existence into another, almost of stepping from one body, one +identity, to another. When he sat at that desk he would be taking up, +not his own career, but the career of the entity who had occupied +this office through generations, and would occupy it in perpetual +succession. Vaguely he began to miss something. The sensation was +like that of one who has long worn a ring on his finger, but omits to +put it on one morning. For that person there is a vague sense of +something missing throughout the day. Bonbright did not know what he +felt the lack of--it was his identity. + +"For the next month or so," said his father, "about all you can hope +to do is to become acquainted with the plant and with our methods. +Rangar will always be at your disposal to explain or to give you +desired information. I think it would be well if he were to conduct +you through the plant. It will give you a basis to work from." + +"The plant is still growing, I see," said Bonbright. "It seems as if +a new building were being put up every time I come home." + +"Yes, growing past the prophecy of any of our predecessors," said his +father. He paused. "I am not certain," he said, as one who asks a +question of his inner self, "but I would have preferred a slower, +more conservative growth." + +"The automobile has done it, of course." + +"Axles," said his father, with a hint of distaste. "The manufacturing +of rear axles has overshadowed everything else. We retain as much of +the old business--the manufacturing of machinery--as ever. Indeed, +THAT branch has shown a healthy growth. But axles! A mushroom that +has overgrown us in a night." + +It was apparent that Bonbright Foote VI did not approve of axles, as +it was a known fact that he frowned upon automobiles. He would not +own one of them. They were too new, too blatant. His stables were +still stables. His coachman had not been transmuted into a chauffeur. +When he drove it was in a carriage drawn by horses--as his ancestors +had driven. + +"Yes... yes..." he said, slowly, with satisfaction, "it is good to +have you in the business, son. It's a satisfaction to see you sitting +there.... Now we must look about to find a suitable girl for you to +marry. We must begin to think about Bonbright Foote VIII." There was +no smile as he said this; the observation was made in sober earnest. +Bonbright saw that, just as his ancestors looked to him to carry on +the business, so they looked to him to produce with all convenient +dispatch a male successor to himself. It was, so to speak, an +important feature of his job. + +"I'll send in Rangar," said his father, not waiting for Bonbright to +reply to the last suggestion, and walked with long-legged dignity out +of the room. + +Bonbright rested his chin on his palm and stared gloomily at the +wall. He felt bound and helpless; he saw himself surrounded by firm +and dignified shades of departed Bonbright Footes whose collective +wills compelled him to this or prohibited that course of action. + +Adventure, chance, were eliminated from his life. He was to be no +errant musician, improvising according to his mood; the score he was +to play was before him, and he must play it note for note, paying +strict attention to rests, keys, andantes, fortissimos, pianissimos. +He had been born to this, had been made conscious of his destiny from +babyhood, but never had he comprehended it as he did on this day of +his investiture. + +Even the selection and courting of a mate, that greatest of all +adventures (to the young), was made humdrum. Doubtless his mother +already had selected the girl, and presently would marry him to her. +... Somehow this was the one phase of the situation that galled him +most. + +"I'll see about that," he muttered, rebelliously, "I'll see about +that." + +Not that marriage was of importance to him yet, except as a thing to +be avoided until some dim future. Women had not assumed consequence +to him; his relations with them had been scant surface relations. +They were creatures who did or did not please the eye, who did or did +not dance well, who did or did not amuse one. That was all. He was +only twenty-three. + +Rangar, his father's secretary, and the man who stood as shield +between Bonbright Foote VI and unpleasant contacts with his business +and the world's business, entered. Rangar was a capable man whose +place as secretary to the head of the business did not measure his +importance in the organization. Another man of his abilities and +opportunity and position would have carried the title of general +manager or vice president--something respect-carrying. As for Rangar, +he was content. He drew the salary that would have accompanied those +other titles, possessed in an indirect sort of way the authority, and +yet managed to remain disentangled from the responsibilities. Had he +suddenly vanished the elder Foote would have been left suspended in +rarefied heights between heaven and his business, lacking direct +contact with the mills and machine shops and foundries; yet, +doubtless, would have been unable to realize that the loss of Rangar +had left him so. Rangar was a competent, efficient man, if peculiar +in his ambitions. + +"Your father," said he, "has asked me to show you through the plant." + +"Thank you--yes," said Bonbright, rising. + +They went out, passing from the old, the family, wing of the office +building, into the larger, newer, general offices, made necessary by +the vastly increased business of the firm. Here, in a huge room, were +bookkeepers, stenographers, clerks, filing cabinets, desks, +typewriters--with several cubicles glassed off for the more important +employees and minor executives. + +"We have tried," said Rangar, "to retain as far as possible the old +methods and systems. Your father, Mr. Foote, is conservative. He +clings to the ways of his father and his grandfather." + +"I remember," said Bonbright, "when we had no typewriting machines." + +"We had to come to them," said Rangar, with a note of regret. "Axles +compelled us. But we have never taken up with these new contraptions +--fads--like phonographs to dictate to, card indices, loose-leaf +systems, adding machines, and the like. Of course it requires more +clerks and stenographers, and possibly we are a bit slower than some. +Your father says, however, that he prefers conducting his business as +a gentleman should, rather than to make a mere machine of it. His +idea," said Rangar, "of a gentleman in business is one who refuses to +make use of abbreviations in his correspondence." + +Bonbright was looking about the busy room, conscious that he was +being covertly studied by every occupant of it. It made him +uncomfortable, uneasy. + +"Let's go on into the shops," he said, impatiently. + +They turned, and encountered in the aisle a girl with a +stenographer's notebook in her hand; indeed, Bonbright all but +stepped on her. She was a slight, tiny thing, not thin, but small. +Her eyes met Bonbright's eyes and she grinned. No other word can +describe it. It was not an impertinent grin, nor a familiar grin, nor +a COMMON grin. It was spontaneous, unstudied--it lay at the opposite +end of the scale from Bonbright Foote VI's smile. Somehow the flash +of it COMFORTED Bonbright. His sensations responded to it. It was a +grin that radiated with well wishes for all the world. Bonbright +smiled back, awkwardly, and bobbed his head as she stepped aside for +him to pass. + +"What a grin!" he said, presently. + +"Oh," said Rangar. "Yes--to be sure. The Girl with the Grin--that's +what they call her in the office. She's always doing it. Your father +hasn't noticed. I hope he doesn't, for I'm sure he wouldn't like it." + +"As if," said Bonbright to himself, "she were happy--and wanted +everybody else to be." + +"I'm sure I don't know," said Rangar. "She's competent." + +They passed outside and through a covered passageway into the older +of the shops. Bonbright was not thinking about the shops, but about +the girl. She was the only thing he had encountered that momentous +morning that had interested him, the only thing upon which Bonbright +Foote, Incorporated, had not set the stamp of its repressing +personality. + +He tried to visualize her and her smile that he might experience +again that sensation of relief, of lightened spirit. In a measure he +was able to do so. Her mouth was large, he saw--no small mouth could +have managed that grin. She was not pretty, but, somehow, attractive. +Her eyes were bully; intelligent, humorous sort of eyes, he decided. + +"Bet she's a darn nice kid," he concluded, boyishly. His father would +have been shocked at a thought expressed in such words. + +"The business has done wonders these last five years," said Rangar, +intruding on Bonbright's thoughts. "Five years ago we employed less +than a thousand hands; to-day we have more than five thousand on the +payroll. Another few years and we shall have ten thousand." + +"Axles?" asked Bonbright, mechanically. + +"Axles," replied Rangar. + +"Father doesn't approve of them--but they must be doing considerable +for the family bank account." + +Rangar shot a quick glance at the boy, a glance with reproof in it +for such a flippancy. Vaguely he had heard that this young man had +done things not expected from a Foote; had, for instance, gone in for +athletics at the university. It was reported he had actually allowed +himself to be carried once on the shoulders of a cheering mob of +students! There were other rumors, also, which did not sit well on +the Foote tradition. Rangar wondered if at last a Foote had been born +into the family who was not off the old piece of cloth, who might, +indeed, prove difficult and disappointing. The flippancy indicated +it. + +"Our inventory," he said, severely, "five years ago, showed a trifle +over a million dollars. To-day these mills would show a valuation of +five millions. The earnings," he added, "have increased in even +greater ratio." + +"Hum," said Bonbright, his mind already elsewhere. His thought, +unspoken, was, "If we've got so blamed much, what's the use piling it +up?" + +At noon they had not finished the inspection of the plant; it was +well toward five o'clock when they did so, for Rangar did his duty +conscientiously. His explanations were long, careful, technical. +Bonbright set his mind to the task and listened well. He was even +interested, for there were interesting things to see, processes +requiring skilled men, machines that had required inventive genius to +devise. He began to be oppressed by the bigness of it. The plant was +huge; it was enormously busy. The whole world seemed to need axles, +preferably Foote axles, and to need them in a hurry. + +At last, a trifle dazed, startled by the vastness of the domain to +which he was heir apparent, Bonbright returned to the aloof quiet of +his historic room. + +"I've a lot to learn," he told Rangar. + +"It will grow on you.... By the way, you will need a secretary." +(The Footes had secretaries, not stenographers.) "Shall I select one +for you?" + +"Yes," said Bonbright, without interest; then he looked up quickly. +"No," he said, "I've selected my own. You say that girl--the one who +grinned--is competent?" + +"Yes, indeed--but a girl! It has been the custom for the members of +the firm to employ only men." + +Bonbright looked steadily at Rangar a moment, then said: + +"Please have that girl notified at once that she is to be my +secretary." + +"Yes, sir," said Rangar. The boy WAS going to prove difficult. He +owned a will. Well, thought the man, others may have had it in the +family before--but it has not remained long. + +"Anything more, Mr. Foote?" + +"Thank you, no," said Bonbright, and Rangar said good evening and +disappeared. + +The boy rested his chin on his hand again, and reflected gloomily. He +hunched up his shoulders and sighed. "Anyhow," he said to himself, +"I'll have SOMEBODY around me who is human." + + + + +CHAPTER II + + +Bonbright's father had left the office an hour before he and Rangar +had finished their tour of the works. It was always his custom to +leave his business early and to retire to the library in his home, +where daily he devoted two hours to adding to the manuscript of The +Philosophical Biography of Marquis Lafayette. This work was +ultimately to appear in several severe volumes and was being written, +not so much to enlighten the world upon the details of the career of +the marquis as it was to utilize the marquis as a clotheshorse to be +dressed in Bonbright Foote VI's mature reflections on men, events, +and humanity at large. + +Bonbright VII sat at his desk motionless, studying his career as it +lay circumscribed before him. He did not study it rebelliously, for +as yet rebellion had not occurred to him. The idea that he might +assert his individuality and depart from the family pattern had not +ventured to show its face. For too many years had his ancestors been +impressing him with his duty to the family traditions. He merely +studied it, as one who has no fancy for geometry will study geometry, +because it cannot be helped. The path was there, carefully staked out +and bordered; to-day his feet had been placed on it, and now he must +walk. As he sat he looked ahead for bypaths--none were visible. + +The shutting-down whistle aroused him. He walked out through the +rapidly emptying office to the street, and there he stood, interested +by the spectacle of the army that poured out of the employees' +entrances. It was an inundation of men, flooding street from sidewalk +to sidewalk. It jostled and joked and scuffled, sweating, grimy, each +unit of it eager to board waiting, overcrowded street cars, where +acute discomfort would be suffered until distant destinations were +reached. Somehow the sight of that surging, tossing stream of +humanity impressed Bonbright with the magnitude of Bonbright Foote, +Incorporated, even more than the circuit of the immense plant had +done. + +Five thousand men, in a newspaper paragraph, do not affect the +imagination. Five thousand men in the concrete are quite another +matter, especially if you suddenly realize that each of them has a +wife, probably children, and that the whole are dependent upon the +dynasty of which you are a member for their daily bread. + +"Father and I," he said to himself, as the sudden shock of the idea +impacted against his consciousness, "are SUPPORTING that whole mob." + +It gave him a sense of mightiness. It presented itself to him in that +instant that he was not a mere business man, no mere manufacturer, +but a commander of men--more than that, a lord over the destinies of +men. It was overwhelming. This realization of his potency made him +gasp. Bonbright was very young. + +He turned, to be carried on by the current. Presently it was choked. +A stagnant pool of humanity formed around some center, pressing +toward it curiously. This center was a tiny park, about which the +street divided, and the center was a man standing on a barrel by the +side of a sign painted on cloth. The man was speaking in a loud, +clear voice, which was able to make itself perfectly audible even to +Bonbright on the extreme edge of the mass. + +"You are helpless as individuals," the man was saying. "If one of you +has a grievance, what can he do?... Nothing. You are a flock of +sheep.... If ALL of you have a grievance, what can you do? You are +still a pack of sheep.... Bonbright Foote, Incorporated, owns you, +body and soul.... Suppose this Foote who does you the favor to let +you earn millions for him--suppose he wants to buy his wife a diamond +necklace.... What's to prevent him lowering your wages next week to +pay for it?... YOU couldn't stop him!... Why can an army beat a mob +of double its numbers? Because the army is ORGANIZED! Because the +army fights as one man for one object!... You are a mob. Capital is +organized against you.... How can you hope to defend yourselves? How +can you force a betterment of your conditions, of your wage?... By +becoming an army--a labor army!... By organizing.... That's why I'm +here, sent by the National Federation--to organize you. To show you +how to resist!... To teach you how to make yourselves +irresistible!..." There were shouts and cheers which blotted out the +speaker's words. Then Bonbright heard him again: + +"Bonbright Foote, Incorporated, is entitled to fair interest on the +money it has invested in its plant. It is entitled to a fair profit +on the raw materials it uses in manufacture.... But how much of the +final cost of its axles does raw material represent? A fraction! What +gives the axles the rest of their value?... LABOR! You men are paid +two, three, some of you even four dollars a day--for your labor. +Bonbright Foote, Incorporated, adds a little pig iron to your labor, +and gives you a place to work in, and takes his millions of dollars a +year.... Do you get your fair share?... You do NOT, and you will +never get a respectable fraction of your fair share till you +organize--and seize it." + +There was more. Bonbright had never heard the like of it before and +it fascinated him. Here was a point of view that was new to him. What +did it mean? Vaguely he had heard of Socialism, of labor unions, of +the existence of a spirit of suspicion and discord between capital +and labor. Now he saw it, face uncovered starkly. + +A moment before he had realized his power over these men; now he +perceived that these men, some of them, realized it even better than +he.... Realized it and resented it; resented it and fought with all +the strength of their souls to undermine it and make it topple in +ruin. + +His mind was a caldron into which cross currents of thought poured +and tossed. He had no experience to draw on. Here was a thing he was +being plunged into all unprepared. It had taken him unprepared, and +shaken him as he had never been shaken before. He turned away. + +Half a dozen feet away he saw the Girl with the Grin--not grinning +now, but tense, pale, listening with her soul in her eyes, and with +the light of enthusiasm glowing beside it. + +He walked to her side, touched her shoulder.... It was +unpremeditated, something besides his own will had urged him to speak +to her. + +"I don't understand it," he said, unsteadily. + +"Your class never does," she replied, not sharply, not as a retort, +but merely as one states a fact to give enlightenment. + +"My father," she said, "was killed leading the strikers at Homestead. +... The unions educated me." + +"What is this man--this speaker--trying to do? Stir up a riot?" + +She smiled. "No. He is an organizer sent by the National Federation. +... They're going to try to unionize our plant." + +"Unionize?" + +"Bonbright Foote, Incorporated," she said, "is a non-union shop." + +"I didn't know," said he, after a brief pause. "I'm afraid I don't +understand these things.... I suppose one should know about them if +he is to own a plant like ours." Again he paused while he fumbled for +an idea that was taking shape. "I suppose one should understand about +his employees just as much as he does about his machinery." + +She looked at him with a touch of awakened interest. "Do you class +men with machinery?" she asked, well knowing that was not his +meaning. He did not reply. Presently he said: + +"Rangar told you you were to be my secretary?" + +"Yes, sir," she said, using that respectful form for the first time. +The relation of employer and employee had been re-established by his +words. "Thank you for the promotion." + +"You understand what this is all about," he said. "I shall want to +ask you about it.... Perhaps you even know the man who is speaking?" + +"He boards with my mother," said she. "That was natural," she added, +"my father being who he was." + +Bonbright turned and looked at the speaker with curiosity awakened as +to the man's personality. The man was young--under thirty, and +handsome in a black, curly, quasi-foreign manner. + +Bonbright turned his eyes from the man to the girl at his side. "He +looks--" said Bonbright. + +"How?" she asked, when it was apparent he was not going to finish. + +"As if," he said, musingly, "he wouldn't be the man to call on for a +line smash in the last quarter of a tough game." + +Suddenly the speech came to an end, and the crowd poured on. + +"Good night," said the girl. "I must find Mr. Dulac. I promised I +would walk home with him." + +"Good night," said Bonbright. "His name is Dulac?" + +"Yes." + +Men like Dulac--the work they were engaged upon--had not fallen +within the circle of Bonbright's experience. Bonbright's training and +instincts had all been aristocratic. At Harvard he had belonged to +the most exclusive clubs and had associated with youths of training +similar to his. In his athletics there had been something democratic, +but nothing to impress him with democracy. Where college broadens +some men by its contacts it had not broadened Bonbright, for his +contacts had been limited to individuals chipped from the same strata +as himself.... In his home life, before going to college, this had +been even more marked. As some boys are taught arithmetic and table +manners, Bonbright had been taught veneration for his family, +appreciation for his position in the world, and to look upon himself +and the few associates of his circumscribed world as selected stock, +looked upon with especial favor and graciousness by the Creator of +the universe. + +Therefore this sudden dip into reality set him shivering more than it +would another who entered the water by degrees. It upset him.... The +man Dulac stirred to life in him something that was deeper than mere +curiosity. + +"Miss--" said he, and paused. "I really don't know your name." + +"Frazer," she supplied. + +"Miss Frazer, I should like to meet this Dulac. Would you be +willing?" + +She considered. It was an unusual request in unusual circumstances, +but why not? She looked up into his boyish face and smiled. "Why +not?" she said, aloud. + +They pressed forward through the crowd until they reached Dulac, +standing beside his barrel, surrounded by a little knot of men. He +saw the girl approaching, and lifted his hand in acknowledgment of +her presence. Presently he came to her, casting a careless glance at +Bonbright. + +"Mr. Dulac," she said, "Mr. Foote has been listening to your speech. +He wants to meet you." + +"Foote!" said Dulac. "Not--" + +"Mr. Bonbright Foote," said the girl. + +Evidently the man was nonplussed. He stared at Bonbright, who +extended his hand. Dulac looked at it, took it mechanically. + +"I heard what you were saying, Mr. Dulac," said Bonbright. "I had +never heard anything like it before--so I wanted to meet you." + +Dulac recovered himself, perceived that here was an opportunity, and +spoke loudly so that the staring, interested workingmen, who now +surrounded them, could hear distinctly. + +"I'm glad you were present," said he. "It is not often we workingmen +catch the ear of you employers so readily. You sit apart from your +men in comfortable offices or in luxurious homes, so they get little +opportunity to talk straight from the shoulder to you.... Even if +they had the chance," he said, with a look about him, "they would not +dare. To be respectful and to show no resentment mean their bread and +butter." + +"Resentment?" said Bonbright. "You see I am new to the business and +to this. What is it they resent?" + +"They resent being exploited for the profit of men like yourself.... +They resent your having the power of life and death over them...." + +The girl stood looking from one man to the other; from Dulac, tall, +picturesquely handsome, flamboyant, conscious of the effect of each +word and gesture, to Bonbright, equally tall, something broader, +boyish, natural in his unease, his curiosity. She saw how like he was +to his slender, aristocratic father. She compared the courtesy of his +manner toward Dulac with Dulac's studied brusqueness, conscious that +the boy was natural, honest, really endeavoring to find out what this +thing was all about; equally conscious that Dulac was exercising the +tricks of the platform and utilizing the situation theatrically. Yet +he was utilizing it for a purpose with which she was heart and soul +in sympathy. It was right he should do so.... + +"I wish we might sit down and talk about it," said Bonbright. "There +seem to be two sides in the works, mine and father's--and the men. I +don't see why there should be, and I'd like to have you tell me. You +see, this is my first day in the business, so I don't understand my +own side of it, or why I should have a side--much less the side of +the men. I hadn't imagined anything of the sort.... I wish you would +tell me all about it. Will you?" + +The boy's tone was so genuine, his demeanor so simple and friendly, +that Dulac's weapons were quite snatched from his hands. A crowd of +the men he was sent to organize was looking on--a girl was looking +on. He felt the situation demanded he should show he was quite as +capable of courtesy as this young sprig of the aristocracy, for he +knew comparisons were being made between them. + +"Why," said he, "certainly.... I shall be glad to." + +"Thank you," said Bonbright. "Good night." He turned to the girl and +lifted his hat. "Thank YOU," said he, and eyes in which there was no +unfriendliness followed him as he walked away, eyes of men whom Dulac +was recruiting for the army of the "other side" of the social +struggle. + +He hurried home because he wanted to see his father and to discuss +this thing with him. + +"If there is a conflict," he said to himself, "in our business, +workingmen against employer, I suppose I am on the employer's side. +THEY have their reasons. We must have our reasons, too. I must have +father explain it all to me." + +His mother called to him as he was ascending the stairs: + +"Be as quick as you can, Bonbright. We have guests at dinner to- +night." + +"Some one I know?" + +"I think not," His mother hesitated. "We were not acquainted when you +went to college, but they have become very prominent in the past four +years.... Mr. and Mrs. Malcolm Lightener--and their daughter," + +Bonbright noticed the slight pause before the mention of the +daughter, and looked quickly at his mother. She looked as quickly +away. + +"All right, mother," he said. + +He went to his room with another disturbance added to the many that +disquieted him. Just as certainly as if his mother had put it into +words he knew she had selected this Lightener girl to be Mrs. +Bonbright Foote VII--and the mother of Bonbright Foote VIII. + +"Confound it," he said, "it's started already.... Dam Bonbright +Foote VIII!" + + + + +CHAPTER III + + +Bonbright dressed with a consciousness that he was to be on +exhibition. He wondered if the girl had done the same; if she, too, +knew why she was there and that it was her duty to make a favorable +impression on him, as it was his duty to attract her. It was +embarrassing. For a young man of twenty-three to realize that his +family expects him to make himself alluring to a desirable future +wife whom he has never seen is not calculated to soothe his nerves or +mantle him with calmness. He felt silly. + +However, here HE was, and there SHE would be. There was nothing for +it but to put his best foot forward, now he was caught for the event, +but he vowed it would require more than ordinary skill to entrap him +for another similar occasion. It seemed to him at the moment that the +main object of his life thenceforward would be, as he expressed it, +"to duck" Miss Lightener. + +When he went down the guests had arrived. His mother presented him, +using proudly her formula for such meetings, "Our son." Somehow it +always made him feel like an inanimate object of virtue--as if she +had said "our Rembrandt," or, "our Chippendale sideboard." + +Mrs. Lightener did not impress him. Here was a quiet, motherly +personality, a personality to grow upon one through months and years. +At first meeting she seemed only a gray-haired, shy, silent sort of +person, not to be spoken of by herself as Mrs. Lightener, but in the +reflected rays of her husband, as Malcolm Lightener's wife. + +But Malcolm Lightener--he dominated the room as the Laocoon group +would dominate a ten by twelve "parlor." His size was only a minor +element in that impression. True, he was as great in bulk as +Bonbright and his father rolled in one, towering inches above them, +and they were tall men. It was the jagged, dynamic, granite +personality of him that jutted out to meet one almost with physical +impact. You were conscious of meeting a force before you became +conscious of meeting a man. And yet, when you came to study his face +you found it wonderfully human--even with a trace of granite humor in +it. + +Bonbright was really curious to meet this man, whose story had +reached him even in Harvard University. Here was a man who, in ten +years of such dogged determination as affected one almost with awe, +had turned a vision into concrete reality. In a day when the only +mechanical vehicles upon our streets were trolley cars, he had seen +those streets thronged with "horseless carriages." He had seen +streets packed from curb to curb with endless moving processions of +them. He had seen the nation abandon its legs and take to motor- +driven wheels. This had been his vision, and he had made it reality. + +From the place of a master mechanic, at four dollars a day, he had +followed his vision, until the world acknowledged him one of her +richest men, one of her greatest geniuses for organization. In ten +years, lifting himself by his boot straps, he had promoted himself +from earnings of twelve hundred dollars a year to twelve million +dollars a year.... He interested Bonbright as a great adventurer. + +To Hilda Lightener he was presented last. He had expected, hoped, to +be unfavorably impressed; he had known he would be ill at ease, and +that any attempts he made at conversation would be stiff and stilted. +... It was some moments after his presentation when he realized he +felt none of these unpleasant things. She had shaken hands with him +boyishly; her eyes had twinkled into his--and he was at his ease. +Afterward he studied over the thing, but could not comprehend it.... +It had been as if he were encountering, after a separation, a friend +of years--not a girl friend, but a friend with no complications of +sex. + +She was tall, nearly as tall as Bonbright, and she favored her +father. Not that the granite was there. She was not beautiful, not +even pretty--but you liked her looks. Bonbright liked her looks. + +At table Bonbright was seated facing Hilda Lightener. His father at +once took charge of the conversation, giving the boy a breathing +space to collect and appraise his impressions. Presently Mr. Foote +said, impressively: + +"This is an important day in our family, Lightener. My son entered +the business this morning." + +Lightener turned his massive, immobile face toward the boy, his +expression not inviting, yet the seeing might have marked the ghost +of a twinkle in his gray eyes. + +"Um.... Any corrections, amendments, or substitutions to offer?" he +demanded. + +Bonbright looked at him, obviously not comprehending the sarcasm. + +"Most young spriggins I take into MY business," said Lightener, +"think a whole day's experience equips them to take hold and make the +whole thing over.... They can show me where I'm all wrong." + +Bonbright smiled, not happily. He was not accustomed to this sort of +humor, and did not know how to respond to it. + +"It was so big," he said. "It sort of weighed me down--yet--somehow I +didn't get interested till after the whistle blew." + +Lightener grunted. + +"That's what interests most of 'em--getting out of the place after +the whistle blows." + +"Dad!" said Hilda. "What was it interested you then, Mr. Foote?" + +"The men," said Bonbright--"that great mob of men pouring out of the +gates and filling the street.... Somehow they seemed to stand for +the business more than all the buildings full of machinery.... I +stood and watched them." + +Interest kindled in Lightener's eyes. "Yes?" he prompted. + +"It never occurred to me before that being at the head of a business +meant--meant commanding so many men... meant exercising power over +all those lives.... Then there were the wives and children at +home...." + +Bonbright's father leaned forward icily. "Son," he said, coldly, "you +haven't been picking up any queer notions in college?" + +"Queer notions?" + +"Socialistic, anarchistic notions. That sort of thing." + +"I don't believe," said Bonbright, with utter honesty, "that I ever +gave the workingman a thought till to-day.... That's why it hit me +so hard, probably." + +"It hit you, eh?" said Lightener. He lifted his hand abruptly to +motion to silence Mr. Foote, who seemed about to interrupt. "Leave +the boy alone, Foote.... This is interesting. Never saw just this +thing happen before.... It hit you hard, eh?" + +"It was the realization of the power of large employers of labor-- +like father and yourself, sir." + +"Was that all?" + +"At first.... Then there was a fellow on a barrel making a speech +about us.... I listened, and found out the workingmen realize that +we are sort of czars or some such thing--and resent it. I supposed +things were different. This Dulac was sent here to organize our men +into a union--just why I didn't understand, but he promised to +explain it to me." + +"WHAT?" demanded Bonbright Foote VI, approaching nearer than his wife +had ever seen him to losing his poise. + +"You talked to him?" asked Hilda, leaning forward in her interest. + +"I was introduced to him; I wanted to know.... He was a handsome +fellow. Not a gentleman, of course--" + +"Oh!" Lightener pounced on that expression. "Not a gentleman, eh?... +Expect to find the Harvard manner in a man preaching riot from a +potato barrel?... Well, well, what did he say? How did HE affect +you?" + +"He seemed to think the men resented our power over them. Just how +correctly he stated their feeling I don't know, of course. They +cheered his speech, however.... He said father had the power to buy +mother a diamond necklace to-morrow, and cut their wages to pay for +it--and they couldn't help themselves." + +"Well--could they?" + +"I don't know. I didn't understand it all, but it didn't seem right +that those men should feel that way toward us. I want to talk to +father about it--have him explain it to me." + +Lightener chuckled and turned to Mr. Foote. "I don't suppose you +appreciate the humor of that, Foote, the way I do. He's coming to you +for an unbiased explanation of why your employees--feel that way.... +Young fellow," he turned to Bonbright again--"I could come closer to +doing it than your father--because I was one of them once. I used to +come home with grease on my hands and a smudge on my nose, smelling +of sweat." Mrs. Foote repressed a shudder and lowered her eyes. "But +I couldn't be fair about it. Your father has no more chance of +explaining the thing to you--than my wife has of explaining the +theory of an internal-combustion engine.... We employers can't do +it. We're on the other side. We can't see anything but our own side +of it." + +"Come now, Lightener, I'm fair-minded. I've even given some study to +the motives of men." + +"And you're writing a book." He shrugged his shoulders. "The sort of +philosophical reflections that go in books aren't the sort to answer +when you're up against the real thing in social unrest.... In your +whole business life you've never really come into contact with your +men. Now be honest, have you?" + +"I've always delegated that sort of thing to subordinates," said Mr. +Foote, stiffly. + +"Which," retorted Mr. Lightener, "is one of the reasons for the +unrest.... That's it. We don't understand what they're up against, +nor what we do to aggravate them." + +"It's the inevitable warfare between capital and labor," said Mr. +Foote. "Jealousy is at the root of it; unsound theories, like this of +socialism, and too much freedom of speech make it all but +unbearable." + +"Dulac said they must organize to be in condition to fight us." + +"Organize," said Mr. Foote, contemptuously. "I'll have no unions in +my shop. There never have been unions and there never shall be. I'll +put a sudden stop to that.... Pretty idea, when the men I pay wages +to, the men I feed and clothe, can dictate to me how I shall conduct +my affairs." + +"Yes," said Lightener, "we automobile fellows are non-union, but how +long we can maintain it I don't know. They have their eyes on us and +they're mighty hungry." + +"To-morrow morning," said Mr. Foote, "notices will appear in every +department stating that any man who affiliates with a labor union +will be summarily dismissed." + +"Maybe that will end the thing this time, Foote, but it'll be back. +It 'll be back." + +Hilda leaned forward again and whispered to Bonbright, "You're not +getting much enlightenment, are you?" Her eyes twinkled; it was like +her father's twinkle, but more charming. + +"How," he asked, slowly, "are we ever to make anything of it if we, +on the employers' side, can't understand their point of view, and +they can't understand ours?" + +Mrs. Foote arose. "Let's not take labor unions into the other room +with us," she said. + +Bonbright and Hilda walked in together and immediately engaged in +comfortable conversation; not the sort of nonsense talk usually +resorted to by a young man and a young woman on their first meeting. +They had no awkwardness to overcome, nor was either striving to make +an impression on the other. Bonbright had forgotten who this girl +was, and why she was present, until he saw his mother and Mrs. +Lightener approach each other, cast covert glances in their +direction, and then observe something with evident pleasure. + +"They seem attracted by each other," Mrs. Foote said. + +"He's a nice boy," replied Mrs. Lightener. "I think you're right." + +"An excellent beginning. Propinquity and opportunity ought to do the +rest.... We can see to that." + +Bonbright understood what they were saying as if he had heard it; bit +his lips and looked ruefully from the mothers to Hilda. Her eyes had +just swung from the same point to HIS face, and there was a dancing, +quizzical light in them. SHE understood, too. Bonbright blushed at +this realization. + +"Isn't it funny?" said Hilda, with a little chuckle. "Mothers are +always doing it, though." + +"What?" he asked, fatuously. + +"Rubbish!" she said. "Don't pretend not to understand. I knew YOU +knew what was up the moment you came into the room and looked at me. +... You--dodged." + +"I'm sure I didn't," he replied, thrown from his equilibrium by her +directness, her frankness, so like her father's landslide directness. + +"Yes, you dodged. You had made up your mind never to be caught like +this again, hadn't you? To make it your life work to keep out of my +way?" + +He dared to look at her directly, and was reassured. + +"Something like that," he responded, with miraculous frankness for a +Foote. + +"Just because they want us to we don't have to do it," she said, +reassuringly. + +"I suppose not." + +"Suppose?" + +"I'm a Foote, you know, Bonbright Foote VII. I do things I'm told to +do. The last six generations have planned it all out for me.... We +do things according to inherited schedules.... Probably it sounds +funny to you, but you haven't any idea what pressure six generations +can bring to bear." He was talking jerkily, under stress of emotion. +He had never opened his mouth on this subject to a human being +before, had not believed it possible to be on such terms with anybody +as to permit him to unbosom himself. Yet here he was, baring his woes +to a girl he had known but an hour. + +"Of course," she said, with her soft, throaty chuckle, "if you really +feel you have to.... But I haven't any six generations forcing ME. +Or do you think yours will take me in hand?" + +"It isn't a joke to me," he said. "How would you like it if the +unexpected--chance--had been carefully weeded out of your future?... +It makes things mighty flat and uninteresting. I'm all wrapped up in +family traditions and precedents so I can't wriggle--like an Indian +baby.... Even THIS wouldn't be so rotten if it were myself they were +thinking about. But they're not. I'm only an incident in the family, +so far as this goes.... It's Bonbright Foote VIII they're fussing +about.... It's my duty to see to it there's a Bonbright Foote VIII +promptly." + +She didn't sympathize with him, or call him "poor boy," as so many +less natural, less comprehending girls would have done. + +"I haven't the least idea in the world," she said, "whether I'll ever +want to marry you or not--and you can't have a notion whether you'll +want me. Suppose we just don't bother about it? We can't avoid each +other--they'll see to that. We might as well be comfortably friendly, +and not go shying off from each other. If it should happen we do want +to marry each other--why, all right. But let's just forget it. I'm +sure I sha'n't marry you just because a lot of your ancestors want me +to.... Folks don't fall in love to order--and you can put this away +carefully in your mind--when I marry it will be because I've fallen +in love." + +"You're very like your father," he said. + +"Rushing in where angels fear to tread, you mean? Yes, dad's more +direct than diplomatic, and I inherit it.... Is it a bargain?" + +"Bargain?" + +"To be friends, and not let our mammas worry us.... I like you." + +"Really?" he asked, diffidently. + +"Really," she said. + +"I like you, too," he said, boyishly. + +"We'll take in our Keep Off the Grass signs, then," she said. "Mother +and father seem to be going." She stood up and extended her hand. +"Good night, chum," she said. To herself she was saying what she was +too wise to say aloud: "Poor kid! A chum is what he needs." + + + + +CHAPTER IV + + +Bonbright's first day in the plant had carried no suggestion from his +father as to what his work was actually to be. He had merely walked +about, listening to Rangar's expositions of processes and systems. +After he was in bed that night he began to wonder what work would +fall to him. What work had it been the custom for the heir apparent +to perform? What work had his father and grandfather and great- +grandfather performed when their positions were his position to- +day?... Vaguely he recognized his incompetence to administer anything +of importance. Probably, little by little, detail by detail, matters +would be placed under his jurisdiction until he was safely +functioning in the family groove. + +His dreams that night were of a reluctant, nightmarish passage down a +huge groove, a monotonous groove, whose smooth, insurmountable sides +offered no hint of variety.... As he looked ahead he could see +nothing but this straight groove stretching into infinity. Always he +was disturbed and made wretched by a consciousness of movement, of +varied life and activity, of adventure, of thrill, outside the +groove, but invisible, unreachable.... He strove to clamber up the +glassy sides, only to slip back, realizing the futility of the +EFFORT. + +He breakfasted alone, before his father or mother was about, and left +the house on foot, driven by an aching restlessness. It was early. +The factory whistle had not yet blown when he reached the gates, but +already men carrying lunch boxes were arriving in a yawning, sleepy +stream.... Now Bonbright knew why he had arisen early and why he had +come here. It was to see this flood of workmen again; to scrutinize +them, to puzzle over them and their motives and their unrest. He +leaned against the wall and watched. + +He was recognized. Here and there a man offered him good morning with +a friendliness of tone that surprised Bonbright. A good many men +spoke to him respectfully; more regarded him curiously; some +hopefully. It was the occasional friendly smile that affected him. +One such smile from an older workman, a man of intelligent face, of +shrewd, gray eyes, caused Bonbright to move from his place to the +man's side. + +"I don't know your name, of course," he said, diffidently. + +"Hooper," said the man, pleasantly. + +"The men seem to know me," Bonbright said. "I was a little surprised. +I only came yesterday, you know." + +"Yes," said Hooper, "they know who you are." + +"They seemed---almost friendly." + +Hooper looked sharply at the young man. "It's because," said he, +"they're pinning hopes to you." + +"Hopes?" + +"Labor can't get anywhere until it makes friends in the ranks of the +employers," said Hooper. "I guess most of the men don't understand +that--even most of the leaders, but it's so. It's got to be so if we +get what we must have without a revolution." + +Bonbright pondered this. "The men think I may be their friend?" + +"Some saw you last night, and some heard you talk to Dulac. Most of +them have heard about it now." + +"That was it?... Thank you, Mr. Hooper." + +Bonbright went up to his office, where he stood at the window, +looking down upon the thickening stream of men as the minute for the +starting whistle approached.... So he was of some importance, in the +eyes of the workingmen, at least! They saw hope in his friendship. +... He shrugged his shoulders. What could his friendship do for them? +He was impotent to help or harm. Bitterly he thought that if the men +wanted friendship that would be worth anything to them, they should +cultivate his dead forbears. + +Presently he turned to his desk and wrote some personal letters--as a +distraction. He did not know what else to do. There was nothing +connected with the plant that he could set his hand to. It seemed to +him he was just present, like a blank wall, whose reason for +existence was merely to be in a certain place. + +He was conscious of voices in his father's room, and after a time his +father entered and bade him a formal good morning. Bonbright was +acutely conscious of his father's distinguished, cultured, +aristocratic appearance. He was conscious of that manner which six +generations of repression and habit in a circumscribed orbit had +bestowed on Bonbright Foote VI. Bonbright was unconscious of the +great likeness between him and his father; of the fact that at his +father's age it would be difficult to tell them apart. Physically he +was out of the Bonbright Foote mold. + +"Son," said Bonbright Foote VI, "you have made an unfortunate +beginning here. You have created an impression which we shall have to +eradicate promptly." + +"I don't understand." + +"It has been the habit of our family to hold aloof from our +employees. We do not come directly into contact with them. +Intercourse between us and them is invariably carried out through +intermediaries." + +Bonbright waited for his father to continue. + +"You are being discussed by every man in the shops. This is +peculiarly unfortunate at this moment, when a determined effort is +being made by organized labor to force unionism on us. The men have +the notion that you are not unfriendly toward unionism." + +"I don't understand it," said Bonbright. "I don't know what my +feelings toward it may be." + +"Your feelings toward it," said his father with decision, "are +distinctly unfriendly." + +Again Bonbright was silent. + +"Last evening," said his father, "you mingled with the men leaving +the shops. You did a thing no member of our family has ever done-- +consented to an interview with a professional labor agitator." + +"That is hardly the fact, sir.... I asked for the interview." + +"Which is worse.... You even, as it is reported to me, agreed to +talk with this agitator at some future time." + +"I asked him to explain things to me." + +"Any explanations of labor conditions and demands I shall always be +glad to make. The thing I am trying to bring home to you is that the +men have gotten an absurd impression that you are in sympathy with +them.... Young men sometimes come home from college with unsound +notions. Possibly you have picked up some socialistic nonsense. You +will have to rid yourself of it. Our family has always arrayed itself +squarely against such indefensible theories.... But the thing to do +at once is to wipe out any silly ideas your indiscretion may have +aroused among our workingmen." + +"But I am not sure--" + +"When you have been in this business ten years I shall be glad to +listen to your matured ideas. Now your ideas--your actions at least- +must conform to the policy we have maintained for generations. I have +called some of our department heads to my room. I believe I hear them +assembling. Let us go in." + +Bonbright followed his father mechanically. The next room contained +some ten or twelve subordinate executives who eyed Bonbright +curiously. + +"Gentlemen," said the elder Foote, "this is my son, whom you may not +have met as yet. I wish to present him to you formally, and to tell +you that hereafter he and I share the final authority in this plant. +Decisions coming from this office are to be regarded as our joint +decisions--except in the case of an exception of immediate moment. +... As you know, a fresh and determined effort is afoot to unionize +this plant. My son and I have conferred on the matter, but I have +seen fit to let the decision rest with him, as to our policy and +course of action." + +The men looked with renewed curiosity at the young man who stood, +white of face, with compressed lips and troubled eyes. + +"My son has rightly determined to adhere to the policy established +many years ago. He has determined that unionism shall not be +permitted to enter Bonbright Foote, Incorporated.... I state your +sentiments, do I not, my son?" + +At the direct challenge Bonbright raised his eyes to his father's +face appealingly. "Father--" he said. + +"I state your position?" his father said, sternly. + +Against Bonbright's will he felt the accumulated power of the family +will, the family tradition. He had been reared in its shadow. Its +grip lay firm upon him. Struggle he might, but the strength to defy +was not yet in him.... He surrendered, feeling that, somehow, his +private soul had been violated, his individuality rent from him. + +"Yes," he said, faintly. + +"The first step he has decided upon," said his father, "and one which +should be immediately repressive. It is to post in every room and +department of the shops printed notices to the effect that any man +who affiliates himself with organized labor, or who becomes a member +of a so-called trade-union, will be summarily dismissed from his +employment.... That was the wording you suggested, was it not?" + +"Yes," said Bonbright, this time without struggle. + +"Rangar," said Mr. Foote, "my son directs that these cards be printed +AT ONCE, and put in place before noon. It can be done, can it not?" + +"Yes, sir," said Rangar. + +"I think that is all, gentlemen.... You understand my son's +position, I believe, so that if anyone questions you can answer him +effectively?" + +The department heads stirred uneasily. Some turned toward the door, +but one man cleared his throat. + +"Well, Mr. Hawthorne?" said the head of the business. + +"The men seem very determined this time. I'm afraid too severe action +on our part will make trouble." + +"Trouble?" + +"A strike," said Hawthorne. "We're loaded with contract orders, Mr. +Foote. A strike at this time--" + +"Rangar," said Mr. Foote, sharply, "at the first sign of such a thing +take immediate steps to counteract it.... Better still, proceed now +as if a strike were certain. These mills MUST continue +uninterruptedly.... If these malcontents force a strike, Mr. +Hawthorne, we shall be able to deal with it.... Good morning, +gentlemen." + +The men filed out silently. It seemed as if they were apprehensive, +almost as if they ventured to disagree with the action of their +employers. But none voiced his disapproval. + +Bonbright stood without motion beside his father's desk, his eyes on +the floor, his lips pressed together. + +"There," said his father, with satisfaction, "I think that will set +you right." + +"Right?... The men will think I was among them last night as a +spy!... They'll despise me.... They'll think I wasn't honest with +them." + +Bonbright Foote VI shrugged his shoulders. "Loyalty to your family," +he said, "and to your order is rather more important than retaining +the good will of a mob of malcontents." + +Bonbright turned, his shoulders dropping so that a more sympathetic +eye than his father's might have found itself moistening, and walked +slowly back to his room. He did not sit at his desk, but walked to +the window, where he rested his brow against his hand and looked out +upon as much of the world as he could see.... It seemed large to +him, filled with promise, filled with interests, filled with +activities for HIM--if he could only be about them. But they were +held tantalizingly out of reach. + +He was safe in his groove; had not slipped there gradually and +smoothly, but had been thrust roughly, by sudden attack, into it. + +His young, healthy soul cried out in protest against the affront that +had been put upon it. Not that the issue itself had mattered so much, +but that it had been so handled, ruthlessly. Bonbright was no friend +to labor. He had merely been a surprised observer of certain +phenomena that had aroused him to thought. He did not feel that labor +was right and that his father was wrong. It might be his father was +very right.... But labor was such a huge mass, and when a huge mass +seethes it is impressive. Possibly this mass was wrong; possibly its +seething must be stilled for the better interests of mankind. +Bonbright did not know. He had wanted to know; had wanted the +condition explained to him. Instead, he had been crushed into his +groove humiliatingly. + +Bonbright was young, to be readily impressed. If his father had +received his uncertainty with kindliness and had answered his +hunger's demand for enlightenment with arguments and reasoning, the +crisis probably would have passed harmlessly. His father had seen fit +not to use diplomacy, but to assert autocratically the power of +Bonbright Foote, Incorporated. Bonbright's individuality had thought +to lift its head; it had been stamped back into its appointed, +circumscribed place. + +He was not satisfied with himself. His time for protest had been when +he answered his father's challenge. The force against him had been +too great, or his own strength too weak. He had not measured up to +the moment, and this chagrined him. + +"All I wanted," he muttered, "was to KNOW!" + +His father called him, and he responded apathetically. + +"Here are some letters," said Mr. Foote. "I have made notes upon each +one how it is to be answered. Be so good as to dictate the replies." + +There it was again. He was not even to answer letters independently, +but to dictate to his secretary words put into his mouth by Bonbright +Foote, Incorporated. + +"It will help you familiarize yourself with our routine," said his +father, "and your signature will apprise the recipients that +Bonbright Foote VII has entered the concern." + +He returned to his desk and pressed the buzzer that would summon Ruth +Frazer with book and pencil. She entered almost instantly, and as +their eyes met she smiled her famous smile. It was a thing of light +and brightness, compelling response. In his mood it acted as a +stimulant to Bonbright. + +"Thank you," he said, involuntarily. + +"For what?" she asked, raising her brows. + +"For--why, I'm sure I don't know," he said. "I don't know why I said +that.... Will you take some letters, please?" + +He began dictating slowly, laboriously. It was a new work to him, and +he went about it clumsily, stopping long between words to arrange his +thoughts. His attention strayed. He leaned back in his chair, +dictation forgotten for the moment, staring at Ruth Frazer without +really being conscious of her presence. She waited patiently. +Presently he leaned forward and addressed a question to her: + +"Did you and Mr. Dulac mention me as you walked home?" + +"Yes," she said. + +"Would it be--impertinent," he asked, "to inquire what you said?" + +She wrinkled her brows to aid recollection. + +"Mr. Dulac," she replied, "wondered what you were up to. That was how +he expressed it. He thought it was peculiar--your asking to know +him." + +"What did YOU think?" + +"I didn't think it was peculiar at all. You"--she hesitated--"had +been taken sort of by surprise. Yes, that was it. And you wanted to +KNOW. I think you acted very naturally." + +"Naturally!" he repeated after her. "Yes, I guess that must be where +I went wrong. I was natural. It is not right to be natural. You +should first find how you are expected to act--how it is planned for +you to act. Yourself--why, yourself doesn't count." + +"What do you mean, Mr. Foote?" + +"This morning," he said, bitterly, "cards with my name signed to them +have been placed, or will be placed, in every room of the works, +notifying the men that if they join a labor union they will be +discharged." + +"Why--why--" + +"I have made a statement that I am against labor unions." + +She looked at him uncomprehendingly, but somehow compelled to +sympathize with him. He had passed through a bitter crisis of some +sort, she perceived. + +"I am not interested in all those men--that army of men," he went on. +"I don't want to understand them. I don't want to come into contact +with them. I just want to sit here in my office and not be bothered +by such things.... We have managers and superintendents and +officials to take care of labor matters. I don't want to talk to +Dulac about what he means, or why our men feel resentment toward us. +Please tell him I have no interest whatever in such things." + +"Mr. Foote," she said, gently, "something has happened to you, hasn't +it? Something that has made you feel bitter and discouraged?" + +"Nothing unusual--in my family--Miss Frazer. I've just been cut to +the Bonbright Foote pattern. I didn't fit my groove exactly--so I was +trimmed until I slipped into it. I'm in now." + +A sudden tumult of shouts and cheers arose in the street under his +window; not the sound of a score of voices nor of a hundred, but a +sound of great volume. Ruth looked up, startled, frightened. +Bonbright stepped to the window. "It's only eleven o'clock," he said, +"but the men are all coming out.... The whistle didn't blow. They're +cheering and capering and shaking hands with one another. What does +that mean, do you suppose?" + +"I'm afraid," said Miss Frazer, "it's your placard." + +"My placard?" + +"The men had their choice between their unions and their jobs--and +they've stood by their unions." + +"You mean--?" + +"They've struck," said Ruth. + + + + +CHAPTER V + + +There are family traditions among the poor just as there are among +the rich. The families of working-men may cling as tenaciously to +their traditions as the descendants of an earl. In certain families +the sons are compelled by tradition to become bakers, in others +machinists; still other lowly family histories urge their members to +conduct of one sort or another. It is inherent in them to hold +certain beliefs regarding themselves. Here is a family whose +tradition is loyalty to another family which has employed the father, +son, grandfather; across the street may live a group whose peculiar +religion is to oppose all constituted authority and to uphold +anarchism. Theories and beliefs are handed down from generation to +generation until they assume the dignity of blood laws. + +Bonbright was being wrenched to fit into the Foote tradition. Ruth +Frazer, his secretary, needed no alterations to conform to the +tradition of HER family. This was the leveling tradition; the +elevating of labor and the pulling down of capital until there was a +dead level of equality--or, perhaps, with labor a bit in the saddle. +Probably a remote ancestor of hers had been a member of an ancient +guild; perhaps one had risen with Wat Tyler. Not a man of the family, +for time beyond which the memory of man runneth not, but had been a +whole-souled, single-purposed labor man--trade-union man--extremist-- +revolutionist. Her father had been killed in a labor riot--and +beatified by her. As the men of her family had been, so were the +women--so was she. + +Rights of man, tyranny of capital, class consciousness had been +taught her with her nursery rhymes. She was a zealot. A charming +zealot with a soul that laughed and wanted all mankind to be happy +with it--a soul that translated itself by her famous grin. + +When she thought of capital, of moneyed aristocracy in the mass and +in the abstract, she hated it. It was a thing to be uprooted, plotted +against, reviled. When she met a member of it in the body, and face +to face, as she was meeting Bonbright Foote, she could not hate. He +was a man, an individual. She could not withhold from him the heart- +warming flash of her smile, could not wish him harm. Somehow, in the +concrete, he became a part of mankind, and so entitled to happiness. + +She was sincere. In her heart she prayed for the revolution. Her keen +brain could plan for the overthrow of the enemy and her soul could +sacrifice her body to help to bring it to pass. She believed. She had +faith. Her actions would be true to her faith even at a martyr cost. +But to an individual whom she saw face to face, let him be the very +head and front of the enemy, and she could not wish him personal +harm. To a psychologist this might have presented a complex problem. +To Ruth it presented no problem at all. It was a simple condition and +she lived it. + +She was capable of hero worship, which, after all, is the keystone of +aristocracies. But her heroes were not warriors, adventurers, +conquerors of the world, conquerors of the world's wealth. They were +revolutionists. They were men who gave their lives and their +abilities to laboring for labor.... Already she was inclining to +light the fires of her hero worship at the feet of the man Dulac. + +Ruth Frazer's grin has been spoken of. It has been described as a +grin. That term may offend some sensitive eye as an epithet +applicable only to something common, vulgar. To smile is proper, may +even be aristocratic; only small boys and persons of slack breeding +are guilty of the grin.... Ruth Frazer's grin was neither common nor +vulgar. It was warming, encouraging, bright with the flashing of a +quick mind, and withal sweet, womanly, delicious. Yet that it was a +grin cannot be denied. Enemies to the grin must make the most of it. + +The grin was to be seen, for Dulac had just entered Ruth's mother's +parlor, and it glowed for him. The man seemed out of place in that +cottage parlor. He seemed out of place in any homelike room, in any +room not filled by an eager, sweating, radical crowd of men assembled +to hang upon his words. That was the place for him, the place nature +had created him to become. To see him standing alone any place, on +the street, in a hotel, affected one with the feeling that he was +exotic there, misplaced. He must be surrounded by his audience to be +RIGHT. + +Something of this crossed Ruth's mind. No woman, seeing a possible +man, is without her sentimental speculation. She could not conceive +of Dulac in a HOME. + +"It's been a day!" he said. + +"Yes." + +"Every skilled mechanic has struck," he said, with pride, as in a +personal achievement. "And most of the rest. To-night four thousand +out of their five thousand men were with us." + +"It came so suddenly. Nobody thought of a strike this morning." + +"We were better organized than they thought," he said, running his +hand through his thick, black hair, and throwing back his head. +"Better than I thought myself.... I've always said fool employers +were the best friends we organizers have. The placard that young +booby slapped the men in the face with--that did it....That and his +spying on us last night." + +"I'm sure he wasn't spying last night." + +"Bosh! He was mighty quick to try to get our necks under his heel +this morning." + +"I don't know what happened this morning," she said, slowly. "I'm his +secretary, you know. Something happened about that placard. I don't +believe he wanted it to go up." + +"You're defending him? Of course. You're a girl and you're close to +the throne with a soft job. He's a good-looking kid in his namby- +pamby Harvard way, too." + +"Mr. Dulac!...My job--I was going to ask you what I should do. I want +to help the men. I want them to feel that I'm with them, working for +them and praying for them. Ought I to quit, too--to join the strike?" + +Dulac looked at her sharply, calculatingly. "No," he said, presently, +"you can do a lot more good where you are." + +"Will there be trouble? I dread to think of rioting and maybe +bloodshed. It will be bad enough, anyhow--if it lasts long. The poor +women and children!" + +"There'll be trouble if they try to turn a wheel or bring in scab +labor." He laughed, so that his white teeth showed. "The first thing +they did was to telephone for the police. I suppose this kid with a +whole day's experience in the business will be calling in strike +breakers and strong-arms and gunmen....Well, let him bring it down +on himself if he wants to. We're in this thing to win. It means +unionism breaking into this automobile game. This is just the +entering wedge." + +"Won't the automobile manufacturers see that, too?" she asked. "Won't +the men have all their power and wealth to fight?" + +Dulac shrugged his shoulders. "I guess the automobile world knows who +Dulac is to-night," he said, with gleaming eyes. + +Somehow the boast became the man. It was perfectly in character with +his appearance, with his bearing. It did not impress Ruth as a brag; +it seemed a natural and ordinary thing for him to say. + +"You've been here just two weeks," she said, a trifle breathlessly; +for he loomed big to her girlish eyes. "You've done all this in two +weeks." + +He received the compliment indifferently. Perhaps that was a pose; +perhaps the ego of the man made him impervious even to compliments. +There are men so confident in their powers that a compliment always +falls short of their own estimate of themselves. + +"It's a start--but all our work is only a start. It's preliminary," +His voice became oratorical. "First we must unionize the world. Now +there are strong unions and weak unions--both arrayed against a +capital better organized and stronger than ever before in the world's +history. Unionism is primary instruction in revolution. We must teach +labor its power, and it is slow to learn. We must prepare, prepare, +prepare, and when all is ready we shall rise. Not one union, not the +unions of a state, of a country, but the unions of the +world...hundreds of millions of men who have been ground down by +aristocracies and wealth for generations. Then we shall have such an +overturning as shall make the French Revolution look like child's +play....A World's Republic--that's our aim; a World's Republic ruled +by labor!" + +Her eyes glistened as he talked; she could visualize his vision, +could see a united world, cleansed of wars, of boundary lines; a +world where every man's chance of happiness was the equal of every +other man's chance; where wealth and poverty were abolished, from +which slums, degradation, starvation, the sordid wickednesses +compelled by poverty, should have vanished. She could see a world of +peace, plenty, beauty. + +It was for this high aim that Dulac worked. His stature increased. +She marveled that such a man could waste his thoughts upon her. She +idealized him; her soul prostrated itself before him. + +So much of accomplishment lay behind him--and he not yet thirty years +old! The confidence reposed in him by labor was eloquently testified +to by the sending of him to this important post on the battle line. +Already he had justified that confidence. With years and experience +what heights might he not climb!...This was Ruth's thought. Beside +Dulac's belief in himself and his future it was colorless. + +Dulac had been an inmate of the Frazer cottage two weeks. In that +time he had not once stepped out of his character. If his attitude +toward the world were a pose it had become so habitual as to require +no objective prompting or effort to maintain. This character was that +of the leader of men, the zealot for the cause of the under dog. It +held him aloof from personal concerns. Individual affairs did not +touch him, but functioned unnoticed on a plane below his clouds. Not +for an instant had he sought the friendship of Ruth and her mother, +not to establish relations of friendship with them. He was devoted to +a cause, and the cause left no room in his life for smaller matters. +He was a man apart. + +Now he was awkwardly tugging something from his pocket. Almost +diffidently he offered it to Ruth. It was a small box of candy. + +"Here..." he said, clumsily. + +"For me!" Ruth was overpowered. This demigod had brought HER a gift. +He had thought about her--insignificant her! True, she had talked +with him, had even taken walks with him, but those things had not +been significant. It had seemed he merely condescended to the +daughter of a martyr to his cause. He had been paying a tribute to +her father. But a gift--a personal gift such as any young man might +make to a girl whose favor he sought! Could it mean...? + +Then she saw that he was embarrassed, actually embarrassed before +her, and she was ashamed of herself for it. But she saw, too, that in +him was a human man, a man with fears and sensations and desires and +weaknesses like other men. After all, a demigod is only half of +Olympus. + +"Thank you," she said. "Thank you SO much." + +"You're not--offended?" + +He was recovering himself. In an instant he was back again in +character. + +"We men," he said, "who are devoted to the Cause have little time in +our lives for such things. The Cause demands all. When we go into it +we give up much that other men enjoy. We are wanderers. We have no +homes. We can't AFFORD to have homes....I," he said, it proudly, +"have been in jail more than once. A man cannot ask a woman to share +such a life. A man who leads such a life has no place in it for a +woman." + +"I should think," she said, "that women would be proud to share such +a life. To know they were helping a little! To know they were making +one comfortable spot for you to come to and rest when you were tired +or discouraged...." + +"Comforts are not for us," he said, theatrically, yet he did not seem +theatrical to her, only nobly self-sacrificing. + +"It isn't right," she said, passionately. "The poorest laborer has +more than you. He has his home and his family. No matter how poor he +is, no matter what he suffers, he has some compensations....And you +--you're giving your life and everything in life that's bright and +beautiful for that laborer." + +"The happiness of one man buying the happiness of millions," he said, +his black eyes glowing. "Yet sometimes we have our weak moments. We +see and we desire." + +"And are entitled to possess," she said. + +His eyes glowed upon her hungrily--she read the hunger in them, +hunger for HER! It frightened her, yet it made her heart leap with +pride. To be looked upon with favor by such a man! + +"Some women," he said, slowly, "might live through it. There are +women big enough and strong enough--a few, maybe. Big enough to +endure neglect and loneliness; to live and not know if their husbands +would sleep at home that night or in a jail or be in the middle of a +riot on the other side of the world! They could not even depend on +their husbands for support....A few might not complain, might be +able to endure....You, Miss Ruth--I believe you are one of them!" + +Her cheeks paled. Was he--could he be about to ask her to share his +life? It was impossible! Yet what else could he mean? To what else +could his words be tending? She was awed, frightened--yet warmed by a +surge of pride. She thought of her father....If he could see and +know! If knowledge could only pass to him that his daughter had been +thought worthy by such a man to play her part for the Cause!...She +waited tensely, hand pressed to her bosom. + +Dulac stepped toward her, barbarically handsome. She felt the force, +the magnetism of him. It called to her, compelled her....She could +not lift her eyes. + +Slowly he approached another step. It was as though he were forced to +her against his will. The silence in the room was the tense silence +of a human crisis....Then it was broken ruthlessly. There came a +pounding on the door that was not a knock, but an alarm. It was +imperative, excited, ominous. + +"Oh..." Ruth cried. + +Her mother was opening the door. + +"Dulac! Where's Dulac?" a man's voice demanded. + +"Here," he replied. "What is it?" + +"O'Hagan's in town," the man panted, rushing into the room. "They've +brought in O'Hagan and his gang of bullies." + +O'Hagan, king of strike breakers! Ruth knew that name well, and what +the arrival of the man of evil omen foretold. It promised violence, +riot, bloodshed, suffering. + +"They're going to try to run, then," said Dulac, calmly. + +"The police have escorted a mob of scabs into the mill yards. They've +tried to drive away our pickets. They've locked up Higgins and Bowen. +Got Mason, too, but the crowd took him away from the police." + +"It's on their own heads," said Dulac, solemnly. "I'll come with +you." He turned to Ruth and took her hand. "You see," he said, "it +calls me away--even from a moment like that...." + + + + +CHAPTER VI + + +Malcolm Lightener was not a man to send messages nor to depend upon +telephones. He was as direct as a catapult, and was just as regardful +of ceremony. The fact that it was his and everybody else's dinner +hour did not hold him back an instant from having himself driven to +the Foote residence and demanding instant speech with Mr. Foote. + +Mr. Foote, knowing Lightener, shrugged his shoulders and motioned +Bonbright to follow him from the table. + +"If we asked him to be seated and wait," said he, "Lightener would +burst into the dining room." + +They found their visitor not seated, but standing like a granite +monolith in the center of the library. + +"Well," he said, observing no formalities of greeting, "you've +chucked a brick into the hornets' nest." + +"Won't you be seated?" asked Mr. Foote, with dignified courtesy. + +"Seated? No, I've got no time for seats, and neither have you, if you +would wake up to it. Do you know what you've done with your +bullheadedness? You've rammed the automobile manufacturers up against +a crisis they've been dodging for years. Needlessly. There was no +more need for this strike at this time than there is for fur +overcoats in hell. But just when the hornets were stirred up and +buzzing, you had to heave your brick.... And now we've got to back +your play." + +"I am not aware," said Mr. Foote, icily, "that we have asked +assistance." + +"If the house next to mine catches fire the owner doesn't have to +holler to me for help. I've got to help to keep the blaze from +spreading to my own house.... You've never thought beyond the +boundaries of Bonbright Foote, Incorporated--that's what's the matter +with you. You're hidebound. A blind man could see the unions look at +this thing as their entering wedge into the automobile industry. If +they break into you they'll break into us. So we've got to stop 'em +short." + +"If we need any help--" Mr. Foote began. + +"Whether you need it or whether you want it," said Lightener, "you +get it." + +"Let me point out to you," said Mr. Foote, with chilly courtesy, +"that my family has been able to manage its business for several +generations--with some small success.... Our relations with our +employees are our own concern, and we shall tolerate no interference. +... I have placed my son in complete charge of this situation, with +confidence that he will handle it adequately." + +"Huh!" grunted Lightener, glancing at Bonbright. "I heard about THAT. +... What I came to say principally was: This thing can be headed off +now if you go at it with common sense. Make concessions. Get to this +Dulac. You can get your men back to work--and break up this union +thing." + +"Mr. Lightener, our course is decided on. We shall make no +concessions. My son has retained O'Hagan, the strike breaker. To- +morrow morning the mills start up as usual, with new men. We have +them camped in the yards now. There shall be no compromising. When we +have the strikers whipped into their places we'll talk to them--not +before." + +"What's the idea of putting up the boy as stalking horse? What do you +expect to get by hiding behind him?" + +"My son was indiscreet. He created a misapprehension among the men as +to his attitude toward labor. I am merely setting them right." + +"And sewing a fine crop of hatred for the boy to reap." + +Mr. Foote shrugged his shoulders "The position of my family has not +been doubtful since the inception of our business. I do not propose +that my son shall make it so. Our traditions must be maintained." + +"If you'd junk a few traditions," said Lightener, "and import a +little modern efficiency--and human understanding of human beings-- +you might get somewhere. You quit developing with that first ancestor +of yours. If the last hundred years or so haven't been wasted, +there's been some progress. You're wabbling along in a stage coach +when other folks use express trains.... When I met the boy here last +night, I thought he was whittled off a different stick from the rest +of you.... I guess he was, too. But you're tying a string of +ancestors around his neck and squeezing him into their likeness." + +"My son knows his duty to his family," said Mr. Foote. + +"I didn't have a family to owe duty to, thank God," said Lightener, +"but I spent quite some time figuring out my duty to myself.... You +won't listen to reason, eh? You're going to bull this thing through?" + +"My son will act as my son should act," said Mr. Foote. + +Lightener turned to where Bonbright stood with set face and eyes that +smoldered, and studied him with an eye accustomed to judging men. + +"There'll be rioting," he said. "Probably there'll be bloodshed. +There'll certainly be a devil of a lot of suffering. Your father is +putting the responsibility for it on your shoulders, young fellow. +Does that set comfortably on your mind?" + +Bonbright was slow to answer. His position was difficult, for it +seemed to him he was being asked by a stranger to criticize his +father and his family. His own unrest under the conditions which were +forced upon him was not to be mentioned. The major point--the +conflict between capital as represented by Bonbright Foote, +Incorporated, and labor--as represented by the striking employees--he +did not understand. He had wanted to understand it; he had felt a +human interest in the men, but this was forbidden to him.... +Whatever he felt, whatever he thought, whatever dread he might have +of the future as it impended over himself--he must be loyal to his +name. So when he spoke it was to say in a singularly unboyish voice: + +"My father has spoken for me, Mr. Lightener." + +For the first time Lightener smiled. He laid a heavy hand on +Bonbright's shoulder. "That was well done, my boy," he said. +Bonbright was grateful for his understanding. + +A servant appeared. "Mr. Bonbright is wanted on the telephone," she +said. + +It was Rangar. "There's rioting at the plant," the man said, +unemotionally. "I have notified the police and taken the necessary +steps." + +"Very well," said Bonbright. He walked to the library, and, standing +in the door, stirred by excitement so that his knees quivered and a +great emptiness was within him, he said to his father, "There's +rioting at the plant, sir." + +Then he turned, put on his coat and hat, and quietly left the house. + +There was rioting at the mills! Bonbright was going to see what +rioting was like, what it meant. It was no impulse, no boyish spirit +of adventure or curiosity, that was taking him, but a command. No +sooner had Rangar spoken the words over the telephone than Bonbright +knew he must go. + +"Whatever is happening," he said to himself, "I'm going to be blamed +for it." + +With some vague juvenile notion of making himself unrecognizable he +turned up the collar of his coat and pulled down his cap.... + +When still some blocks from the mills a patrol wagon filled with +officers careened past him, its gong emitting a staccato, exciting +alarm. Here was reality. Bonbright quickened his step; began to run. +Presently he entered the street that lay before the face of the +factory--a street lighted by arc lamps so that the scene was +adequately visible. As far as the main gates into the factory yards +the street was in the possession of the police; beyond them surged +and clamored the mob, not yet wrought to the pitch of attack. +Bonbright thought of a gate around the corner. He would enter this +and ascend to his office, whence he could watch the street from his +window. + +Before the gate a man sat on a soap box, a short club dangling by a +thong from his wrist. As Bonbright approached he arose. + +"What you want?" he demanded, taking a businesslike grip on his +weapon. + +"I want to go in," said Bonbright. "I'm Mr. Foote." + +The man grinned. "To be sure, Mr. Foote. Howdy, Mr. Foote. You'll be +glad to meet me. I'm Santa Claus." + +"I tell you I'm Mr. Foote. I want to go inside." + +"And I tell you," said the man, suddenly dropping his grin, "to beat +it--while you're able." + +Youthful rage sent its instant heat through Bonbright. For an instant +he meditated jerking the man from that gate by the nape of the neck +and teaching him a lesson with his athletic foot.... It was not fear +of the result that deterred him; it was the thought that this man was +his own employee, placed there by him for this very purpose. If the +guard made HIM bristle with rage, how would the sight of the man and +his club affect the strikers? He was a challenge and an insult, an +invitation to violence. Bonbright turned and walked away, followed by +a derisive guffaw from the strike breaker. + +Bonbright retraced his steps and approached the rear of the police. +Here he was stopped by an officer. + +"Where you goin'?" + +"I'm Mr. Foote," said Bonbright. "I want to see what's happening." + +"I can't help it if you're Mr. Roosevelt, you can't go any farther +than this.... Now GIT." He gave Bonbright a violent and unexpected +shove, which almost sent the young man off his feet. He staggered, +recovered himself, and stood glowering at the officer. "Move!" came +the short command, and once more burning with indignation, he obeyed. +Here was another man acting in his behalf, summoned to his help. It +was thus the police behaved, roughly, intolerantly, neither asking +nor accepting explanations. It did not seem to Bonbright this could +be the right way to meet the emergency. It seemed to him calculated +only to aggravate it. The application of brute force might conquer a +mob or stifle a riot, but it would leave unquenched fires of +animosity. A violent operation may be necessary to remove a malignant +growth. It may be the only possible cure; but no physician would hope +to cure typhoid fever by knocking the patient insensible with a club. +True, the delirium would cease for a time, but the deep-seated +ailment would remain and the patient only be the worse for the +treatment.... Here the disease was disagreement, misunderstanding, +suspicion, bitterness of heart between employer and employees. +Neither hired strike breaker nor policeman's baton could get to the +root of it.... Yet he, Bonbright Foote VII, was the man held out to +all the world as favoring this treatment, as authorizing it, as +ordering it! + +He walked quite around the block, approaching again on a side street +that brought him back again just ahead of the police. This street was +blocked by excited, restless, crowding, jeering men, but Bonbright +wormed his way through and climbed upon a porch from which he could +see over the heads of the foremost to where a line of police and the +front rank of strikers faced each other across a vacant space of +pavement, the square at the intersection of the streets. + +Behind him a hatless man in a high state of excitement was making an +inflammatory speech from a doorstep. He was urging the mob to charge +the police, to trample them under.... Bonbright leaned far over the +railing so he could look down the street where the main body of the +mob was assembled. There was another speaker. Bonbright recognized +Dulac--and Dulac, with all his eloquence, was urging the men to +disperse to their homes in quiet. Bonbright listened. The man was +talking sense! He was pointing out the folly of mob violence! He was +showing them that it achieved nothing.... But the mob was beyond the +control of wise counsel. Possibly the feet of many had pressed brass +rails while elbows crooked. Certainly there was present a leaven of +toughs, idlers, in no way connected with the business, but sent by +the devil to add to the horror of it. + +One of these, discreetly distant from the front, hurled half a brick +into the line of police. It was a vicious suggestion. Other bricks +and missiles followed, while the crowd surged forward. Suddenly the +line of patrolmen opened to let through a squad of mounted police, +who charged the mob.... It was a thing requiring courage, but a +thing ordered by an imbecile. + +Horses and men plunged into that dammed river of men.... It was a +scene Bonbright could never erase from his memory, yet never could +have described. It was a nightmare, a sensation of dread rather than +a scene of fierce, implacable action. + +The police drew back. The strikers hesitated.... Between them, on +the square of pavement, lay quiet, or writhing in pain, half a dozen +human forms.... Bonbright, his face colorless as those who lay +below, stared at the bodies. For this that he saw he would be held +responsible by the world.... + +He ran down the steps and began struggling through the mob. "Let me +through.... Let me through," he panted. + +He broke through to the front, not moved by reason, but quivering +with the horror of the sight of men needlessly slain or maimed.... +He must do something. He must stop it! + +Then he Was recognized. "It's young Foote," a man shouted, and +snatched at his shoulder. He shook the man off, but the cry was taken +up. "It's Foote--young Foote.... Spying again." + +Men sprang upon him, but he turned furiously and hurled them back. +They must not stop him. He must not be interfered with, because he +had to put an end to this thing. The mob surged about him, striking, +threatening, so that he had to turn his face toward them, to strike +out with his fists. More than one man went down under his blows +before he could break away and run toward the police. + +"See what you've done," he shouted in their faces. "This must stop." +He advanced another step, as if to force the mounted officers to +retreat. + +"Grab him," ordered a sergeant. + +Bonbright was promptly grabbed and hauled through the line of mounted +police, to be thrown into the arms of waiting patrolmen. He fought as +strength was given him to fight, but they carried him ungently and +hurled him asprawl upon the floor of a patrol wagon, already well +occupied by arrests from the mob. + +"Git 'em to the station," the driver was ordered, and off lurched the +patrol wagon. + +That rapid ride brought cooling to Bonbright's head. He had made a +fool of himself. He was ashamed, humiliated, and to be humiliated is +no minor torture to a young man. + +Instead of giving his name to the lieutenant on the desk he refused +to give a name, and was entered as John Doe. It was his confused +thought to save his family from publicity and disgrace.... So he +knew what it was to have barred doors shut upon him, to be alone in a +square cell whose only furnishing was a sort of bench across one end. +He sank upon this apathetically and waited for what morning should +bring. + + + + +CHAPTER VII + + +The world owes no small part of its advancement to the reflections of +men in jails. + +Bonbright, alone in the darkness of his cell, was admirably situated +for concentrated thought. All through the sleepless night he reviewed +facts and theories and conditions. He reached few definite +conclusions, and these more boyish than mature; he achieved to no +satisfaction with himself. His one profound conclusion was that +everything was wrong. Capital was wrong, labor was wrong; the whole +basis upon which society is organized was wrong. It was an +exceedingly sweeping conclusion, embracing EVERYTHING. He discerned +no ray of light. + +He studied his own conduct, but could convince himself of no +voluntary wrongdoing. Yet he was in a cell.... In the beginning he +had merely tried to understand something that aroused his curiosity-- +labor. From the point of view of capital, as represented by his +father, this had been a sin. How or why it was a sin he could not +comprehend.... Labor had been willing to be friendly, but now it +hated him. Orders given in his name, but not originating in his will, +had caused this. His attitude became fatalistic--he was being moved +about by a ruthless hand without regard to his own volition. He might +as well close his eyes and his mind and submit, for Bonbright Foote +VII did not exist as a rational human individual, but only as a +checker on the board, to be moved from square to square with such +success or error as the player possessed. + +Last night.... He had been mishandled by the employees of capital +and the guardians of society; he had been mobbed by labor. He +resented the guard and the police, but could not resent the mobbing. +... He seemed to be dangling between two worlds, mishandled by either +that he approached. But one fact he realized--labor would have none +of him. His father had seen to that. There was no place for him to go +but into the refuge of capital, and so to become an enemy to labor +against which he had no quarrel.... This night set him more deeply +in the Bonbright Foote groove. There was nothing for him now but +complete submission, apathetic submission. + +If it must be so, it must be so. He would let the family current bear +him on. He would be but another Bonbright Foote, differentiated from +the others only by a numeral to designate his generation. + +Singularly, his own immediate problem did not present itself +insistently until daylight began to penetrate the murk of the cell. +What would the authorities do with him? How was he to get his +liberty? Would the thing become public? He felt his helplessness, his +inadequacy. He could not ask his father to help him, for he did not +want his father ever to know what had happened the night before, yet +he must have help from some one. Suddenly the name of Malcolm +Lightener occurred to him. + +After a time the doorman appeared with breakfast. + +"Can I send a message?" asked Bonbright. + +The doorman scrutinized him, saw he was no bum of the streets, but +quite evidently a gentleman in temporary difficulty. + +"Maybe," he said, grudgingly. "Gimme the message and I'll see." + +"Please telephone Mr. Malcolm Lightener that the younger of the +gentlemen he called on last evening is here and would like to see +him." + +"Malcolm Lightener, the automobile feller?" + +"Yes." + +"Friend of your'n?" + +"Yes." + +"Um!..." The doorman disappeared to return presently with the +lieutenant. + +"What's this about Malcolm Lightener?" the officer asked. + +"I gave the man here a message for him," said Bonbright. + +"Is it on the level? You know Lightener?" + +"Yes," said Bonbright, impatiently. + +"Then what the devil did you stay here all night for? Why didn't you +have him notified last night? Looks darn fishy to me." + +"It will do no harm to deliver my message," said Bonbright. + +"Huh!... Let him out." The doorman swung wide the barred door and the +lieutenant motioned Bonbright out. "Come and set in the office," he +said. "Maybe you'd rather telephone yourself?" + +"If I might," said Bonbright, amazed at the potency of Lightener's +name to open cell doors and command the courtesy of the police. It +was his first encounter with Influence. + +He was conducted into a small office; then the lieutenant retired +discreetly and shut the door. Bonbright made his call and asked for +speech with Malcolm Lightener. + +"Hello!... Hello!" came Lightener's gruff voice. "What is it?" + +"This is Bonbright Foote.... I'm locked up in the Central Station. I +wonder if you can't help me somehow?" + +There was a moment's silence; then Bonbright heard a remark not +intended for his ears but expressive of Lightener's astonishment, +"Well, I'm DARNED!" Then: "I'll be right there. Hold the fort." + +Bonbright opened the door and said to the lieutenant, "Mr. +Lightener's on his way down." + +"Um!... Make yourself comfortable. Say, was that breakfast all right? +Find cigars in that top drawer." The magic of Influence! + +In twenty minutes Lightener's huge form pushed through the station +door. "Morning, Lieutenant. Got a friend of mine here?" + +"Didn't know he was a friend of yours, Mr. Lightener. He wouldn't +give his name, and never asked to have you notified till this +morning.... He's in my office there." + +Lightener strode into the room and shut the door. + +"Well?" he demanded. + +Breathlessly, almost without pause, Bonbright poured upon him an +account of last night's happenings, making no concealments, +unconsciously giving Lightener glimpses into his heart that made the +big man bend his brows ominously. The boy did not explain; did not +mention accusingly his father, but Lightener understood perfectly +what the process of molding Bonbright was being subjected to. He made +no comment. + +"I don't want father to know this," Bonbright said. "If it can be +kept out of the papers.... Father wouldn't understand. He'd feel I +had disgraced the family." + +"Doggone the family," snapped Lightener. "Come on." + +Bonbright followed him out. + +"May I take him along, Lieutenant? I'll fix it with the judge if +necessary.... And say, happen to recognize him?" + +"Never saw him before." + +"If any of the newspaper boys come snoopin' around, you never saw me, +either. Much obliged, Lieutenant." + +"You're welcome, Mr. Lightener. Glad I kin accommodate you." + +Lightener pushed Bonbright into his limousine. "You don't want to go +home, I guess. We'll go to my house. Mother'll see you get breakfast. +... Then we'll have a talk.... Here's a paper boy; let's see what's +doing." + +It was the morning penny paper that Lightener bought, the paper with +leanings toward the proletariat, the veiled champion of labor. He +bought it daily. + +"Huh!" he grunted, as he scanned the first page. "They kind of allude +to you." + +Bonbright looked. He saw a two-column head: + +YOUNG MILLIONAIRE URGES ON POLICE + +The next pyramid contained his name; the story related how he had +rushed frantically to the police after they had barbarously charged a +harmless gathering of workingmen, trampling and maiming half a dozen, +and had demanded that they charge again. It was a long story, with +infinite detail, crucifying him with cheap ink; making him appear a +ruthless, heartless monster, lusting for the spilled blood of the +innocent. + +Bonbright looked up to meet Lightener's eyes. + +"It--it isn't fair," he said, chokingly. + +"Fairness," said Lightener, almost with gentleness, "is expected only +when we are young." + +"But I didn't.... I tried to stop them." + +"Don't try to tell anybody so--you won't be believed." + +"I'm going to tell somebody," said Bonbright, his mind flashing to +Ruth Frazer, "and I'm going to be believed. I've got to be believed." + +After a while he said: "I wasn't taking sides. I just went there to +see. If I've got to hire men all my life I want to understand them." + +"You've got to take sides, son. There's no straddling the fence in +this world.... And as soon as you've taken sides your own side is +all you'll understand. Nobody ever understood the other side." + +"But can't there ever be an understanding? Won't capital ever +understand labor, or labor capital?" + +"I suppose a philosopher would say there is no difference upon which +agreement can't be reached; that there must somewhere be a common +meeting ground.... The Bible says the lion shall lie down with the +lamb, but I don't expect to live to see him do it without worrying +some about the lion's teeth." + +"It's one man holding power over other men," said Bonbright. + +As the car stopped at Malcolm Lightener's door, sudden panic seized +Bonbright. + +"I ought not to come here," he said, "after last night. Mrs. +Lightener... your daughter." + +"I'll bet Hilda's worrying you more than her mother. Nonsense! They +both got sense." + +Certainly Mrs. Lightener had. + +"Just got him out of the police station," her husband said as he led +the uncomfortable Bonbright into her presence. "Been shut up all +night.... Rioting--that's what he's been doing. Throwing stones at +the cops." + +Mrs. Lightener looked at Bonbright's pale, weary, worried face. "You +let him be, Malcolm.... Never mind HIM," she said to the boy. "You +just go right upstairs with him. A warm bath and breakfast are what +you need. You don't look as if you'd slept a WINK." + +"I haven't," he confessed. + +When Bonbright emerged from the bath he found the motherly woman had +sent out to the haberdashers for fresh shirt, collar, and tie. He +donned them with the first surge of genuine gratefulness he had ever +known. Of course he had said thank you prettily, and had thought he +felt thanks.... Now he knew he had not. + +"Guess you won't be afraid to face Hilda now," said Lightener, +entering the room. "I notice a soiled collar is worn with a heap more +misgiving than a soiled conscience.... Grapefruit, two soft-boiled +eggs, toast, coffee.... Some prescription." + +Hilda was in the library, and greeted him as though it were an +ordinary occurrence to have a young man just out of the cell block as +a breakfast guest. She did not refer to it, nor did her father at the +moment. Bonbright was grateful again. + +After breakfast the boy and girl were left alone in the library, +briefly. + +"I'm ashamed," said Bonbright, chokingly. + +"You needn't be," she said. "Dad told us all about it. I thought the +other night I should like you. Now I'm sure of it." She owned her +father's directness. + +"You're good," he said. + +"No--reasonable," she answered. + +He sat silent, thinking. "Do you know," he said, presently, "what a +lot girls have to do with making a fellow's life endurable?... Since +I went to work I--I've felt really GOOD only twice. Both times it was +a girl. The other one just grinned at me when I was feeling down on +my luck. It was a dandy grin.... And now you..." + +"Tell me about her," she said. + +"She's my secretary now. Little bit of a thing, but she grins at all +the world... Socialist, too, or anarchist or something. I made them +give her to me for my secretary so I could see her grin once in a +while." + +"I'd like to see her." + +"I don't know her," said Bonbright. "She's just my secretary. I'll +bet she'd be bully to know." + +Hilda Lightener would not have been a woman had she not wondered +about this girl who had made such an impression on Bonbright. It was +not that she sensed a possible rival. She had not interested herself +in Bonbright to the point where a rival could matter. But--she would +like to see that girl. + +Malcolm Lightener re-entered the room. + +"Clear out, honey," he said to his daughter. "Foote and I have got to +make medicine." + +She arose. "If he rumbles like a volcano," she said to Bonbright, +"don't be afraid. He just rumbles. Pompeii is in no danger." + +"You GIT," her father said. + +"Now," he said when they were alone, "what's to pay?" + +"I don't know." + +"Will your father raise the devil? Maybe you'd like to have me go +along when you interview him." + +"I think I'd rather not." + +Lightener nodded with satisfaction. + +"Well, then--I've kind of taken a shine to you. You're a young idiot, +all right, but there's something about you.... Let's start off with +this: You've got something that's apt to get you into hot water. +Either it's fool curiosity or genuine interest in folks. I don't know +which. Neither fits into the Bonbright Foote formula. Six generations +of 'em seem to have been whittled off the same chip--and then the +knife slipped and you came off some other chip altogether. But the +Foote chip don't know it, and won't recognize it if it does.... I'm +not going to criticize your father or your ancestors, whatever kind +of darn fools I may personally think they are. What I want to say is, +if you ever kick over the traces, drop in and tell me about it. I'll +see you on your road." + +"Thanks," said Bonbright, not half comprehending. + +"You can't keep on pressing men out of the same mold forever. Maybe +you can get two or three or a dozen to be as like as peas--and then +nature plays a joke on you. You're the joke on the Foote mold, I +reckon. Maybe they can squeeze you into the form and maybe they +can't.... But whatever happens is going to be darn unpleasant for +you." + +Bonbright nodded. THAT he knew well. + +"You've got a choice. You can start in by kicking over the traces-- +with the mischief to pay; or you can let the vanished Footes take a +crack at you to see what that can make of you. I advise no boy to run +against his father's wishes. But everybody starts out with something +in him that's his own--individual--peculiar to him. Maybe it's what +the preachers call his soul. Anyhow, it's HIS. Whatever they do to +you, try to hang on to it. Don't let anybody pump it out of you and +fill its room with a standardized solution. Get me?" + +"I think so." + +"I guess that's about, all from me. Now run along to your dad. Got +any idea what will happen?" + +Bonbright studied the rug more than a minute before he answered. + +"I think I was right last night. Maybe I didn't go about it the way I +should, but I INTENDED right. At least I didn't intend WRONG. Father +will be--displeased. I don't think I can explain it to him... " + +"Uh!" grunted Lightener. + +"So I--I guess I sha'n't try," Bonbright ended. "I think I'll go +along and have it over with." + +When he was gone Malcolm Lightener made the following remark to his +wife, who seemed to understand it perfectly: + +"Some sons get born into the wrong families." + + + + +CHAPTER VIII + + +Bonbright entered his office with the sensations of a detected +juvenile culprit approaching an unavoidable reckoning. If there was a +ray of brightness in the whole episode it was that the newspapers had +miraculously been denied the meatiest bit of his night's adventure-- +his detention in a cell. If that had been flaunted before the eyes of +the public Bonbright felt he would never have been able to face his +father. + +He was vividly aware of the stir his entrance caused among the office +employees. It was as though the heart of the office skipped a beat. +He flushed, and, with eyes straight before him, hurried into his own +room and sat in his chair. He experienced a quivering, electric +emptiness--his nerves crying out against an approaching climax. It +was blood-relative to panic. + +Presently he was aware that his father stood in the door scrutinizing +him. Bonbright's eyes encountered his father's. They seemed to lock +... In that tense moment the boy was curiously aware how perfectly +his father's physical presence stood for and expressed his theory of +being. Tall, unbending, slender, aristocratic, intellectual--the pose +of the body, the poise of the head, even that peculiar, slanting set +of the lips expressed perfectly the Bonbright Foote idea. Five +generations had bred him to be the perfect thing it desired. + +"Well, sir," he said, coldly. Bonbright arose. There was a formality +about the situation which seemed to require it. "Good morning," he +said, in a low tone. + +"I have seen the papers." + +"Yes, sir." + +"What they printed was in substance true?" + +"I prefer not--to discuss it, sir." + +"And _I_ prefer TO discuss it... Do you fancy you can drag the name +of Foote through the daily press as though it were that of some +dancing girl or political mountebank, and have no reference made of +it? Tell me exactly what happened last night--and why it was +permitted to happen." + +"Father--" Bonbright's voice was scarcely audible, yet it was alive +and quivering with pain. "I cannot talk to you about last night." + +The older man's lips compressed. "You are a man grown--are supposed +to be a man grown. Must I cross-examine you as if you were a sulking +schoolboy?" + +Bonbright was not defiant, not sulkily stubborn. His night's +experiences had affected, were affecting him, working far-reaching +changes in him, maturing him. But he was too close to them for their +effect to have been accomplished. The work was going on each moment, +each hour. He did not reply to his father immediately, but when he +did so it was with a certain decision, a firmness, a lack of the old +boyishness which was marked and distinct. + +"You must not cross-question me. There are things about which one's +own father has not the right to ask.... If I could have come to you +voluntarily--but I could not. In college I have seen fellows get into +trouble, and the first thing they thought of was to go to their +fathers with it... It was queer. What happened last night happened +to ME. Possibly it will have some effect on my family and on the name +of Foote, as you say... But it happened to ME. Nobody else can +understand it. No one has the right to ask about it." + +"It happened to YOU! Young man, you are the seventh Bonbright Foote-- +member of a FAMILY. What happens to you happens to it. You cannot +separate yourself from it. You, as an individual, are not important, +but as Bonbright Foote VII you become important. Do you imagine you +can act and think as an entity distinct from Bonbright Foote, +Incorporated?... Nonsense. You are but one part of a whole; what you +do affects the whole, and you are responsible for it to the shops." + +"A man must be responsible to himself," said Bonbright, fumbling to +express what was troubling his soul. "There are bigger things than +family..." + +His father had advanced to the desk. Now he interrupted by bringing +his hand down upon it masterfully. "For you there is no bigger thing +than family. You have a strange idea. Where did you get it? Is this +sort of thing being taught in college to-day? I suppose you have some +notion of asserting your individuality. Bosh! Men in your position, +born as you have been born, have no right to individuality. Your +individuality must express the individuality of your family as mine +has done, and as my father's and HIS father's did before me... I +insist that you explain fully to me what occurred last night." + +"I am sorry, sir, but I cannot." + +There was no outburst of passion from the father; it would have been +wholly out of keeping with his character. Bonbright Foote VI was a +strong man in his way; he possessed force of character--even if that +force were merely a standardized, family-molded force of character. +He recognized a crisis in the affairs of the Foote family which must +be met wisely. He perceived that results could not be obtained +through the violent impact of will; that here was a dangerous +condition which must be cured--but not by seizing it and wrenching it +into place... Perhaps he could make Bonbright obey him, but if +matters were as serious as they seemed, it would be far from wise. +The thing must be dealt with patiently, firmly. Here was only a +symptom; the disease went deeper. For six generations one Bonbright +Foote after another had been born true to tradition's form--the +seventh generation had gone askew! It must be set right, remolded. + +"Let me point out to you," said he, "that you are here only because +you are my son and the descendant of our forefathers. Aside from that +you have no right to consideration or to position. You possess +wealth. You are a personage... Suppose it were necessary to deprive +you of these things. Suppose, as I have the authority to do, I should +send you out of this office to earn your own living. Suppose, in +short, I should find it necessary to do as other fathers have done-- +to disown you... What then? What could you do? What would your +individuality be worth?... Think it over, my son. In the meantime we +will postpone this matter until you revise your mood." + +He turned abruptly and went into his own room. He wanted to consider. +He did not know how to conduct himself, nor how to handle this +distressing affair... He fancied he was acting wisely and +diplomatically, but at the same time he carried away with him the +unpleasant consciousness that victory lay for the moment with his +son. Individuality was briefly triumphant. One thing was clear to +him--it should not remain so. The Bonbright Foote tradition should be +continued correctly by his son. This was not so much a determination +as a state of mind. It was a thing of inevitability. + +Bonbright's feeling as his father left him was one of utter +helplessness, of futility. He had received his father's unveiled +threat and later it would have its effect. For the moment it passed +without consideration. First in his mind was the fact that he did not +know what to do--did not even know what he WANTED to do. All he could +see was the groove he was in, the family groove. He did not like it, +but he was not sure he wanted to be out of it. His father had talked +of individuality; Bonbright did not know if he wanted to assert his +individuality. He was at sea. Unrest grappled with him blindly, +urging him nowhere, seeming merely to wrestle with him aimlessly and +maliciously... What was it all about, anyhow? Why was he mixed up in +the struggle? Why could not he be left alone in quiet? If he had +owned a definite purpose, a definite ambition, a describable desire, +it would have been different, but he had none. He was merely bitterly +uncomfortable without the slightest notion what event or course of +action could bring him comfort. + +One thought persisted through the chaos of his surging thoughts. He +must call in Ruth Frazer and explain to her that he had not done what +the papers said he did. Somehow he felt he owed her explanation, her +of all the world. + +She entered in response to the button he pushed, but there was not +the broad smile--the grin--he looked up eagerly to see. She was +grave, rather more than grave--she was troubled, so troubled that she +did not raise her eyes to look at him, but took her seat opposite him +and laid her dictation book on the desk. + +"Miss Frazer--" he said, and at his tone she looked at him. He seemed +very young to her, yet older than he had appeared before. Older he +was, with a tired, haggard look left by his sleepless night. She +could not restrain her heart from softening toward him, for he was +such a boy--just a boy. + +"Miss Frazer," he said again, "I want to--talk to you about last +night--about what the papers said." + +If he expected help from her he was disappointed. Her lips set +visibly. + +"It was not true--what they said... I sha'n't explain it to anybody +else. What good could it do? But I want you to understand. It seems +as if I HAVE to explain to you.... I can't have you believing--" + +"I didn't read it in the papers," she said. "I heard from an +eyewitness. + +"Mr. Dulac," he said. "Yes, he would have seen. Even to him it might +have looked that way--it might. But I didn't--I didn't! You must +believe me. I did not run to the police to have them charge the +strikers again... Why should I?" + +"Why should you?" she repeated, coldly. + +"Let me tell you... I went there--out of curiosity, I guess. This +whole strike came so suddenly. I don't understand why strikes and +troubles like this must be, and I thought I might find out something +if I went and watched... I wasn't taking sides. I don't know who is +right and who is wrong. All I wanted was to learn. One thing... I +don't blame the strikers for throwing bricks. I could have thrown a +brick at one of our guards; a policeman shoved me and I could have +thrown a brick at him.... I suppose, if there are to be strikes and +mobs who want to destroy our property, that we must have guards and +police... But they shouldn't aggravate things. I went around where I +could see--and I saw the police charge. I saw them send their horses +smashing into that crowd--and I saw them draw back, leaving men on +the pavement,... There was one who writhed about and made horrible +sounds!... The mob was against us and the police were for us--but I +couldn't stand it. I guess I lost my head. I hadn't the least +intention of doing what I did, or of doing anything but watch... but +I lost my head. I did rush up to the police, Miss Frazer, and the +strikers tried to mob me. I was struck more than once... It wasn't +to tell the police to charge. You must believe me--you MUST.... I +was afraid they WOULD charge again, so I rushed at them. All I +remember distinctly is shouting to them that they mustn't do it +again--mustn't charge into that defenseless mob.... It was +horrible." He paused, and shut his eyes as though to blot out a +picture painted on his mind. Then he spoke more calmly. "The police +didn't understand, either. They thought I belonged to the mob, and +they arrested me.... I slept--I spent the night in a cell in Police +Headquarters." + +Ruth was leaning over the desk toward him, eyes wide, lips parted. +"Is--is that the TRUTH?" she asked; but as she asked she knew it was +so. Then: "I'm sorry--so sorry. You must let me tell Mr. Dulac and he +will tell the men. It would be terrible if they kept on believing +what they believe now. They think you are--" + +"I know," he said, wearily. "It can't be helped. I don't know that it +matters. What they think about me is what--it is thought best for +them to think. I am supposed to be fighting the strike." + +"But aren't you?" + +"I suppose so. It's the job that's been assigned to me--but I'm doing +nothing. I'm of no consequence--just a stuffed figure." + +"You caused the strike." + +"I?" There was genuine surprise in his voice. "How?" + +"With that placard." + +"I suppose so," he said, slowly. "My name WAS signed to it, wasn't +it?... You see I had been indiscreet the night before. I had mingled +with the men and spoken to Mr. Dulac.... I had created a false +impression--which had to be torn up--by the roots." + +"I don't understand, Mr. Foote." + +"No," he said, "of course not.... Why should you? I don't understand +myself. I don't see why I shouldn't talk to Mr. Dulac or the men. I +don't see why I shouldn't try to find out about things. But it wasn't +considered right--was considered very wrong, and I was--disciplined. +Members of my family don't do those things. Mind, I'm not +complaining. I'm not criticizing father, for he may be right. +Probably he IS right. But he didn't understand. I wasn't siding with +the men; I was just trying to find out..." + +"Do you mean," she asked, a bit breathlessly, "that you have done +none of these things of your own will--because you wanted to? I mean +the placard, and bringing in O'Hagan and his strike breakers, and +taking all these ruthless methods to break the strike?... Were you +made to APPEAR as though it was you--when it wasn't?" + +"Don't YOU misunderstand me, Miss Frazer. You're on the other side-- +with the men. I'm against them. I'm Bonbright Foote VII." There was a +trace of bitterness in his voice as he said it, and it did not escape +her attention. "I wasn't taking sides.... I wouldn't take sides now-- +but apparently I must.... If strikes are necessary then I suppose +fellows in places like mine must fight them.... I don't know. I +don't see any other way.... But it doesn't seem right--that there +should be strikes. There must be a reason for them. Either our side +does something it shouldn't--and provokes them, or your side is +unfair and brings them on.... Or maybe both of us are to blame.... +I wanted to find out." + +"I shall tell Mr. Dulac," she said. "I shall tell him EVERYTHING. The +men mustn't go on hating and despising you. Why, they ought to be +sorry for you!... Why do you endure it? Why don't you walk out of +this place and never enter it again?..." + +"You don't understand," he said, with perplexity." I knew you would +think I am siding with the men." + +"I don't think that--no!... You might come to side with us--because +we're right. But you're not siding with yourself. You're letting +somebody else operate your very soul--and that's a worse sin than +suicide.... You're letting your father and this business, this +Bonbright Foote, Incorporated, wipe you out as if you were a mark on +a slate--and make another mark in your place to suit its own plans. +... You are being treated abominably." + +"Miss Frazer, I guess neither of us understands this thing. You see +this business, for generations, has had a certain kind of man at the +head of it. Always. It has been a successful business. Maybe when +father, and his father, were young, they had to be disciplined as I +am being. Maybe it is RIGHT--what I have heard called TRAINING." + +"Do you like it?" + +He did not answer at once. "I--it disturbs me. It makes me uneasy. +... But I can do nothing. They've got me in the groove, and I suppose +I'll move along it." + +"If you would own up to it, you're unhappy. You're being made +miserable.... Why, you're being treated worse than the strikers--and +by your own father!... Everybody has a right to be himself." + +"You say that, but father and the generations of Footes before him +say the exact opposite.... However, I'm not the question. All I +wanted to do was to explain to you about last night. You believe me?" + +"Of course. And I shall tell--" + +He shook his head. "I'd rather you didn't. Indeed, you mustn't. As +long as I am here I must stick by my family. Don't you see? I wanted +YOU to know. My explanation was for you alone." + +Rangar appeared in the door--quietly as it was his wont to move. +"Pardon," he said. "Your father wishes to speak to you, Mr. Foote." + +"One moment, Miss Frazer. I have some letters," Bonbright said, and +stepped into his father's office. + +"Bonbright," said his father, "Rangar has just discovered that your +secretary--this Miss Frazer--lives in the same house with Dulac the +strike leader.... She comes of a family of disturbers herself. +Probably she is very useful to Dulac where she is. Therefore you will +dismiss her at once." + +"But, father--" + +"You will dismiss her at once--personally." + +A second time that day the eyes of father and son locked. + +Bonbright's face was colorless; he felt his lips tremble. + +"At once," said his father, tapping his desk with his finger. + +Bonbright's sensation was akin to that of falling through space-- +there seemed nothing to cling to, nothing by which to sustain +himself. How utterly futile he was was borne in upon him! He could +not resist. Protestation would only humiliate him. He turned slowly +and walked into his own room, where he stood erect before his desk. + +"Miss Frazer," he said in a level, timbreless voice, "the labor +leader Dulac lives in your house. You come of a family of labor +agitators. Therefore you are discharged." + +"WHAT?" she exclaimed, the unexpectedness of it upsetting her poise. + +"You are discharged," he repeated; and then, turning his back on her, +he walked to the window, where he stood tense, tortured by +humiliation, gazing down upon a street which he could not see. + +Ruth gathered her book and pencils and stood up. She moved slowly to +the door without speaking, but there she stopped, turned, and looked +at Bonbright. There was neither dismay nor anger in her eyes--only +sympathy. But she did not speak it aloud. "Poor boy!" she whispered +to herself, and stepped out into the corridor. + + + + +CHAPTER IX + + +Ruth Frazer had passed her twentieth birthday, and now, for the first +time, she was asking herself that question which brings tearful +uncertainty, vague fears, disquieting speculations to the great +majority of women--should she give herself, body and soul, into the +hands of a definite man? It was the definiteness, the identification +of the man, that caused all her difficulty. All women expect to be +chosen by, and to choose, some man; but when he arrives in actual +flesh and blood--that is quite another matter. Some, perhaps many, +have no doubts. Love has come to them unmistakably. But not so with +most. It is a thing to be wept over, and prayed over, and considered +with many changes of mind, until final decision is made one way or +the other. + +Dulac had been interrupted in what Ruth knew would have been a +proposal of marriage; the scene would be resumed, and when it was +what answer should she give? + +It is no easy task for a girl of twenty to lay her heart under the +microscope and to see if the emotion which agitates it is love, or +admiration, or the excitation of glamour. She has heard of love, has +read of love, has dreamed of love, possibly, but has never +experienced love. How, then, is she to recognize it? With Ruth there +had been no long acquaintanceship with this man who came asking her +future of her. There had been no months or years of service and +companionship. Instead, he had burst on her vision, had dazzled her +with his presence and his mission. Hers was a steady little head, and +one capable of facing the logic of a situation. Was her feeling +toward Dulac merely hero worship? + +The cause he represented was dear to her heart, and he was an eminent +servant in that cause. It thrilled her to know that such a man as he +could want HER for his wife. It quite took her breath away. Present +also was the feeling that if Dulac wanted her, if she could bring +happiness, ease, help to him, it would be her duty to give herself. +By so doing she would contribute her all to the cause.... Behind +that thought were generations of men and women who had sacrificed and +suffered for labor. If her father had given his life, would he not +expect his daughter to give HER life? If she could make Dulac +stronger to carry on his work for social revolution, had she a right +to withhold herself?... + +But, being a girl, with youth singing in her heart, it was impossible +that anything should take precedence of love. That was the great +question. Did she love?... At noon she was sure she did; at one +o'clock she was sure she did not; at two o'clock she was wavering +between the two decisions; at six o'clock she had passed through all +these stages half a dozen times, and was no nearer certainty. + +Being who she was and what she was, her contacts with the world had +not been those of the ordinary girl of her age and her station in +life. In her earlier years she had been accustomed to radical words, +radical thought, radical individuals. The world she was taught to see +was not the world girl children are usually taught to see. And yet +she retained her humor, her brightness of spirit, the joy of life +that gave her her smile.... She had known boys and men. However, +none of these had made marked impression upon her. They had been mere +incidents, pleasant, uninteresting, wearying, amusing. None had +thrilled her.... So she had less experience to call to her aid than +the average girl. + +Dulac occupied her mind as no man had ever occupied it before; the +thought of him thrilled her.... He wanted her, this magnetic, +theatrically handsome man wanted her.... + +When we make a choice we do so by a process of comparison. We buy +this house because we like it better than that house; we buy this hat +because we prefer it to that other;... it is so we get our notions +of value, of desirability. It is more than possible that some effort +at comparison is made by a woman in selecting a husband. She compares +her suitor with other men. Her decision may hinge upon the result. +... Dulac was clearly superior to most of the men Ruth had known.... +Then, unaccountably, she found herself thinking of Bonbright Foote, +who had that morning discharged her from her employment. She found +herself setting young Foote and Dulac side by side and, becoming +objectively conscious of this, she felt herself guilty of some sort +of disloyalty. What right had a man in Foote's position to stand in +her thoughts beside Dulac? He was everything Dulac was not; Dulac was +nothing that Foote was. + +She realized she was getting nowhere, was only confusing herself. +Perhaps, she told herself, when Dulac was present, when he asked her +to be his wife, she would know what to answer. So, resolutely, she +put the matter from her mind. It would not stay out. + +She dreaded meeting Dulac at supper--for the evening meal was supper +in the Frazer cottage--and yet she was burningly curious to meet him, +to be near him, to verify her image of him.... Extra pains with the +detail of her simple toilet held her in her room until her mother +called to know if she were not going to help with the meal. As she +went to the kitchen she heard Dulac moving about in his room. + +When they were seated at the table it was Mrs. Frazer who jerked the +conversation away from casual matters. + +"Ruth was discharged this morning, Mr. Dulac," she said, bitterly, +"and her as good a typewriter and as neat and faithful as any. No +fault found, either, nor could be, not if anybody was looking for it +with a fine-tooth comb. Meanness, that's what I say. Nothing but +meanness.... And us needing that fifteen dollars a week to keep the +breath of life in us." + +"Don't worry about that, mother," Ruth said, quickly. "There are +plenty of places--" + +"Who fired you?" interrupted Dulac, his black eyes glowing angrily. +"That young cub?" + +"Young Mr. Foote," said Ruth. + +"It was because I live here," said Dulac, intensely. "That was why, +wasn't it? That's the way they fight, striking at us through our +womenfolks.... And when we answer with bricks..." + +"I don't think he wanted to do it," Ruth said. "I think he was made +to." + +"Nonsense! Too bad the boys didn't get their hands on him last night-- +the infernal college-bred whipper-snapper!... Well, don't you worry +about that job. Nor you, either, Mrs. Frazer." + +"Seems like I never did anything but worry; if it wasn't about one +thing it was another, and no peace since I was in the cradle," said +Mrs. Frazer, dolefully. "If it ain't the rent it's strikes and riots +and losin' positions and not knowin' if your husband's comin' home to +sleep in bed, or his name in the paper in the morning and him in +jail. And since he was killed--" + +"Now, mother," said Ruth, "I'll have a job before tomorrow night. We +won't starve or be put out into the street." + +Mrs. Frazer dabbed at her eyes with her apron and signified her firm +belief that capital was banded together for the sole purpose of +causing her mental agony; indeed, that capital had been invented with +that end in view, and if she had her way--which seldom enough, and +her never doing a wrong to a living body--capital should have visited +on it certain plagues and punishments hinted at as adequate, but not +named. Whereupon she got up from the table and went out into the +kitchen after the pie. + +"Mrs. Frazer," said Dulac, when she returned, "I've got to hurry +downtown to headquarters, but I want to have a little talk with Ruth +before I go. Can't the dishes wait?" + +"I did up dishes alone before Ruth was born, and a few thousand times +since. Guess I can get through with it without her help at least once +more." + +Dulac smiled, so that his white, even teeth showed in a foreign sort +of way. In that moment Ruth thought there was something Oriental or +Latin about his appearance--surely something exotic. He had a power +of fascination, and its spell was upon her. + +He stood up and walked to the door of the little parlor, where he +stood waiting. Ruth, not blushing, but pale, afraid, yet eager to +hear what she knew he was going to say, passed him into the room. He +closed the door. + +"You know what I want to say," he began, approaching close to her, +but not touching her. "You know what life will be like with a man +whose work is what mine is.... But I'd try to make up for the +hardships and the worries and the disagreeable things. I'd try, Ruth, +and I think I could do it.... Your heart is with the Cause. I +wouldn't marry you if it wasn't because you couldn't stand the life. +But you want to see what I want to see.... If I'm willing to run the +risks and live the life I have to live because I see how I can help +along the work and make the world a better place for those to live in +who need to have it a better place... if I can do what I do, I've +thought you might be willing to share it all.... You're brave. You +come of a blood that has suffered and been willing to suffer. Your +father was a martyr--just as I would be willing to be a martyr...." + +Somehow the thing did not seem so much like a proposal of marriage as +like a bit of flamboyant oratory. The theatrical air of the man, his +self-consciousness--with the saving leaven of unquestionable +sincerity--made it more an exhortation from the platform. Even in his +intimate moments Dulac did not step out of character.... But this +was not apparent to Ruth. Glamour was upon her, blinding her. The +personality of the man dominated her personality. She saw him as he +saw himself.... And his Cause was her Cause. If he would have +suffered martyrdom for it, so would she. She raised her eyes to his +and, looking into them, saw a soul greater than his soul, loftier +than his soul. She was an apostle, and her heart throbbed with pride +and joy that this man of high, self-sacrificing purpose should desire +her.... She was ready to surrender; her decision was made. Standing +under his blazing eyes, in the circle of his magnetism, she was sure +she loved him. + +But the surrender was not to be made then. Her mother rapped on the +door. + +"Young gentleman to see you, Ruth," she called. + +She heard Dulac's teeth click savagely. "Quick," he said. "What is it +to be?" + +The spell was broken, the old uncertainty, the wavering, was present +again. "I--oh, let me think. To-morrow--I'll tell you to-morrow." + +She stepped--it was almost a flight--to the door, and opened it. In +the dining room, hat in hand, stood Bonbright Foote. Dulac saw, too. + +"What does he want here?" he demanded, savagely. + +"I don't know." + +"I'll find out. It's no good to you he intends." + +"Mr. Dulac!" she said, and faced him a moment. He stopped, furious +though he was. She stopped him. She held him.... There was a +strength in her that he had not realized. Her utterance of his name +was a command and a rebuke. + +"I know his kind," Dulac said, sullenly. "Let me throw him out." + +"Please sit down," she said. "I want to bring him in here. I know him +better than you--and I think your side misunderstands him. It may do +some good." + +She stepped into the dining room. "Mr. Foote," she said. + +He was embarrassed, ill at ease. "Miss Frazer," he said, with boyish +hesitation, "you don't want to see me--you have no reason to do +anything but--despise me, I guess. But I had to come. I found your +address and came as quickly as I could." + +"Step in here," she said. Then, "You and Mr. Dulac have met." + +Dulac stood scowling. "Yes," he said, sullenly. Bonbright flushed and +nodded.... Dulac seemed suddenly possessed by a gust of passion. He +strode threateningly to Bonbright, lips snarling, eyes blazing. + +"What do you mean by coming here? What do you want?" he demanded, +hoarsely. "You come here with your hands red with blood. Two men are +dead.... Four others smashed under the hoofs of your police!... +You're trying to starve into submission thousands of men. You're +striking at them through their wives and babies.... What do you care +for them or their suffering? You and your father are piling up +millions--and every penny a loaf stolen from the table of a +workingman!... There'll be starving out there soon.... Babies will +be dying for want of food--and you'll have killed them.... You and +your kind are bloodsuckers, parasites!... and you're a sneaking, +spying hound.... Every man that dies, every baby that starves, every +ounce of woman's suffering and misery that this strike causes are on +your head.... You forced the strike, backed up by the millions of +the automobile crowd, so you could crush and smash your men so they +wouldn't dare to mutter or complain. You did it deliberately--you +prowling, pampered puppy...." Dulac was working himself into blind +rage. + +Bonbright looked at the man with something of amazement, but with +nothing of fear. He was not afraid. He did not give back a step, but, +as he stood there, white to the lips, his eyes steadily on Dulac's +eyes, he seemed older, weary. He seemed to have been stripped of +youth and of the lightheartedness and buoyancy of youth. He was +thinking, wondering. Why should this man hate him? Why should others +hate him? Why should the class he belonged to be hated with this +blighting virulence by the class they employed?... + +He did not speak nor try to stem Dulac's invective. He was not +angered by it, nor was he hurt by it.... He waited for it to +subside, and with a certain dignity that sat well on his young +shoulders. Generations of ancestors trained in the restraints were +with him this night, and stood him in good stead. + +Ruth stood by, the situation snatched beyond her control. She was +terrified, yet even in her terror she could not avoid a sort of +subconscious comparison of the men. + +"Mr. Dulac!... Please!... Please!..." she said, tearfully. + +"I'm going to tell this--this murderer what he is. and then I'm going +to throw him out," Dulac raged. + +"Mr. Foote came to see ME," Ruth said, with awakened spirit. "He is +in my house.... You have no right to act so. You have no right to +talk so.... You sha'n't go on." + +Dulac turned on her. "What is this cub to you? What do you care?... +Were you expecting him?" + +"She wasn't expecting me," said Bonbright, breaking silence for the +first time. "I came because she didn't get a square deal.... I had +to come." + +"What do you want with her?... You've kicked her out of your office +--now leave her alone.... There's just one thing men of your class +want of girls of her class...." + +At first Bonbright did not comprehend Dulac's meaning; then his face +reddened; even his ears were enveloped in a surge of color. "Dulac," +he said, evenly, "I came to say something to Miss Frazer. When I have +done I'm going to thrash you for that." + +Ruth seized Dulac's arm. "Go away," she cried. "You have no right. +... If you ever want an answer--to that question--you'll go NOW... +If this goes on--if you don't go and leave Mr. Foote alone, I'll +never see you again.... I'll never speak to you again.... I mean +it!" + +Dulac, looking down into her face, saw that she did mean it. He shot +one venomous glance at Bonbright, snatched his hat from the table, +and rushed from the room. + +Presently Ruth spoke. + +"I'm so sorry," she said. + +Bonbright smiled. "It was too bad.... He believes what he says about +me...." + +"Yes, he believes it, and thousands of other men believe it.... They +hate you." + +"Because I have lots of money and they have little. Because I own a +factory and they work in it.... There must be a great deal to it +besides that.... But that isn't what I came to say. I--it was about +discharging you." + +"Yes," she said. "I knew it wasn't you.... Your father made you." + +He flushed. "You see... I'm not a real person. I'm just something +with push buttons. When somebody wants a thing done he pushes one, +and I do it.... I didn't want you to go. I--Well, things aren't +exactly joyous for me in the plant. I don't fit--and I'm being made +to fit." His voice took on a tinge of bitterness. "I've got to be +something that the label 'Bonbright Foote VII' will fit.... It was +on account of that smile of yours that I made them give you to me for +my secretary. The first time I saw you you smiled--and it was mighty +cheering. It sort of lightened things up--so I got you to do my work +--because I thought likely you would smile sometimes...." + +Her eyes were downcast to hide the moisture that was in them. + +"Father made me discharge you.... I couldn't help it--and you don't +know how ashamed it made me.... To know I was so helpless. That's +what I came to say. I wanted you to know--on account of your smile. I +didn't want you to think--I did it willingly.... And--sometimes it +isn't easy to get another position--so--so I went to see a man, +Malcolm Lightener, and told him about you. He manufactures +automobiles--and he's--he's a better kind of man to work for than--we +were. If you are willing you can--go there in the morning." + +She showed him her smile now--but it was not the broad, beaming grin; +it was a dewy, tremulous smile. + +"That was good of you," she said, softly. + +"I was just trying to be square," he said. "Will you take the place? +I should like to know. I should like to know I'd helped to make +things right." + +"Of course I shall take it," she said. + +"Thank you.... I--shall miss you. Really.... Good night, Miss +Frazer--and thank you." + +She pitied him from her heart. His position was not a joyful one.... +And, as people sometimes do, she spoke on impulse, not calculating +possible complications. + +"If--you may come to see me again if you want to." + +He took her extended hand. "I may?" he said, almost incredulously. +"And will you smile for me?" + +"Once, each time you come," she said. + + + + +CHAPTER X + + +Day after day and week after week the strike dragged on. Daily +strength departed from it and entered into Bonbright Foote, +Incorporated. The men had embarked upon it with enthusiasm, many of +them with fanatic determination; but with the advent in their home of +privation, of hunger, their zeal was transmuted into heavy +determination, lifeless stubbornness. Idleness hung heavily on their +hands, and small coins that should have passed over the baker's +counter clinked upon mahogany bars. + +Dulac labored, exhorted, prayed with them. It was his personality, +his individual powers over the minds and hearts of men, that kept the +strike alive. The weight rested upon his shoulders alone, but he did +not bend under it. He would not admit the hopelessness of the +contest--and he fought on. At the end of a month he was still able to +fire his audiences with sincere, if theatrical, oratory; he could +still play upon them and be certain of a response. At the end of two +months he--even he--was forced to admit that they listened with +stolidness, with apathy. They were falling away from him; but he +fought on. He would not admit defeat, would not, even in his most +secret thoughts, look forward to inevitable failure. + +Every man that deserted was an added atom of strength to Bonbright +Foote, Incorporated. Every hungry baby, every ailing wife, every +empty dinner table fought for the company and against Dulac. Rioting +ended. It requires more than hopeless apathy to create a riot; there +must be fervor, determination, enthusiasm. Daily Dulac's ranks were +thinned by men who slunk to the company's employment office and +begged to be reinstated.... The back of the strike was broken. + +Bonbright Foote saw how his company crushed the strike; how, +ruthlessly, with machinelike certainty and lack of heart, it went +ahead undeviatingly, careless of obstructions, indifferent to human +beings in its path. There was something Prussian about it; something +that recalled to him Bismarck and Moltke and 1870 with the exact, +soulless mechanical perfection of the systematic trampling of the +France of Napoleon III.... And, just as the Bonbright Foote +tradition crunched the strike to pieces so it was crunching and +macerating his own individuality until it would be a formless mass +ready for the mold. + +The will should be a straight steel rod urged in one undeviating +direction by heart and mind. No day passed upon which the rod of +Bonbright's will was not bent, was not twisted to make it follow the +direction of some other will stronger than his--the direction of the +accumulated wills of all the Bonbright Footes who had built up the +family tradition. + +No initiative was allowed him; he was not permitted to interest +himself in the business in his own youthful, healthy way; but he must +see it through dead eyes, he must initiate nothing, criticize +nothing, suggest nothing. He must follow rule. + +His father was not satisfied with him, that he realized--and that he +was under constant suspicion. He was unsatisfactory. His present +mental form was not acceptable and must undergo painful processes of +alteration. His parents would have taken him back, as a bad bargain, +and exchanged him for something else if they could, but being unable, +they must make him into something else. + +Humiliation lay heavy on him. Every man in the employ of Bonbright +Foote, Incorporated, must realize the shamefulness of his position, +that he was a fiction, a sham held up by his father's hands. Orders +issued from his lips to unsmiling subordinates, who knew well they +were not his orders, but words placed in his mouth to recite parrot- +like. Letters went out under his signature, dictated by him-- +according to the dictation of his father. He was a rubber stamp, a +mechanical means of communication.... He was not a man, an +individual--he was a marionette dancing to ill-concealed strings. + +The thing he realized with abhorrence was that when he was remade, +when he became the thing the artisans worked upon him to create--when +at last his father passed from view and he remained master of +Bonbright Foote, Incorporated, it would not be Bonbright Foote VII +who was master. It would be an automaton, a continuation of other +automatons.... It is said the Dalai Lama is perpetual, always the +same, never changing from age to age. A fiction maintained by a +mystic priesthood supplying themselves secretly with fresh Dalai Lama +material as needful--with a symbol to hold in awe the ignorance of +their religionists.... Bonbright saw that he was expected to be a +symbol.... + +He approached his desk in the morning with loathing, and left it at +night without relief. Hopelessness was upon him and he could not flee +from it; it was inescapable. + +True, he sought relief. Malcolm Lightener had become his fast friend +--a sort of life preserver for his soul. In spite of his youth and +Lightener's maturity there was real companionship between them.... +Lightener knew what was going on, and in his granite way he tried to +help the boy. Bonbright was not interested in his own business, so +Lightener awakened in him an interest in Lightener's business. He +discussed his affairs with the boy. He talked of systems, of +efficiency, of business methods. He taught Bonbright as he would have +taught his own son, half realizing the futility of his teaching. Nor +had he question as to the righteousness of his proceeding. Because a +boy's father follows an evil course the parenthood does not hallow +that course.... So Bonbright learned, not knowing that he learned, +and in his own office he made comparisons. The methods of Bonbright +Foote, Incorporated, he compared with the methods of Malcolm +Lightener. He saw where modern business would make changes and +improvements--but after the first few trampled-on suggestions he +remained silent and grew indifferent. + +Once he suggested the purchase of dictating machines. + +"Fol-de-rol," said his father, brusquely--and the matter ended. + +In Lightener's plant he saw lathes which roughed and finished in one +process and one handling. In his own plant castings must pass from +one machine to another, and through the hands of extra and +unnecessary employees. It was economic waste. But he offered no +suggestion. He saw time lost here, labor lavished there, but he was +indifferent. He knew better. He knew how it should be done--but he +did not care.... The methods of Bonbright Foote I not only suited +his father, but were the laws of his father's life. + +Not only had Bonbright established sympathetic relations with Malcolm +Lightener, but with Lightener's family. In Mrs. Lightener he found a +woman whose wealth had compelled the so-called social leaders of the +city to accept her, but whose personality, once she was accepted, had +won her a firm, enduring position. He found her a woman whose sudden, +almost magical, change from obscurity and the lower fringe of salary- +drawers to a wealth that made even America gasp, had not made her +dizzy. Indeed, it seemed not to have affected her character at all. +Her dominant note was motherliness. She was still the housewife. She +continued to look after her husband and daughter just as she had +looked after them in the days when she had lived in a tiny frame +house and had cooked the meals and made the beds.... She represented +womanhood of a sort Bonbright had never been on terms of intimate +friendship with.... There was much about her which gave him food for +reflection. + +And Hilda.... Since their first meeting there had been no reference +to the desire of their mothers for their marriage. For a while the +knowledge of this had made it difficult for Bonbright to offer her +his friendship and companionship. But when he saw, as the weeks went +by, how she was willing to accept him unaffectedly as a friend, a +comrade, a chum, how the maternal ambition to unite the families +seemed to be wholly absent from her thoughts, they got on +delightfully. + +Bonbright played with her. Somehow she came to represent recreation +in his life. She was jolly, a splendid sportswoman, who could hold +her own with him at golf or tennis, and who drove an automobile as he +would never have dared to drive. + +She was not beautiful, but she was attractive, and the center of her +attractiveness was her wholesomeness, her frankness, her simplicity. +... He could talk to her as he could not talk even to her father, yet +he could not open his heart fully even to her. He could not show her +the soul tissues that throbbed and ached. + +He was lonely. A lonely boy thrown with an attractive girl is a +fertile field for the sowing of love. But Bonbright was not in love +with Hilda.... The idea did not occur to him. There was excellent +reason--though he had not arrived at a realization of it, and this +excellent reason was Ruth Frazer. + +He had ventured to accept Ruth's impulsive invitation to come to see +her. Not frequently, not so frequently as his inclinations urged, but +more frequently than was, perhaps, wise in his position.... She +represented a new experience. She was utterly outside his world, and +so wholly different from the girls of his world. It was an attractive +difference.... And her grin! When it glowed for him he felt for the +moment as if the world were really a pleasant place to spend one's +life. + +He learned from her. New ideas and comprehensions came to him as a +result of her conversations with him. Through her eyes he was seeing +the other side. Not all her theories, not even all her facts, could +he accept, but no matter how radical, no matter how incendiary her +words, he delighted to hear her voice uttering them. In short, +Bonbright Foote VII, prince of the Foote Dynasty, was in danger of +falling in love with the beggar maid. + +So, many diverse forces and individualities were at work upon the +molding of Bonbright Foote. One, and one only, he recognized, and +that was the stern, ever-apparent, iron-handed wrenching of his +father. There were times, which grew more and more frequent, when he +fancied he had surrendered utterly to it and had handed over his soul +to Bonbright Foote, Incorporated. He fancied he was sitting by +apathetically watching the family tradition squeeze it into the +desired form.... + +After a wretched day he had called on Ruth. The next morning soft- +footed Rangar had moved shadowlike into his father's office, and +presently his father summoned him to come in. + +"I am informed," said the gentleman who was devoting his literary +talents to a philosophical biography of the Marquis Lafayette, Hero +of Two Worlds, friend of Liberty and Equality, "that you have been +going repeatedly to the house of that girl who formerly was your +secretary--whose mother runs a boarding house for anarchists." + +The suddenness, the unexpectedness of attack upon this angle, +nonplussed Bonbright. He could only stand silent, stamped with the +guilty look of youth. + +"Is it true?" snapped his father. + +"I have called on Miss Frazer," Bonbright said, unsteadily. + +Mr. Foote stood up. It was his habit to stand up in all crises, big +or little. + +"Have you no respect for your family name?... If you must have +things like this in your life, for God's sake keep them covered up. +Don't be infernally blatant about them. Do you want the whole city +whispering like ghouls over the liaison of my son with--with a female +anarchist who is--the daughter of a boarding-house keeper?" + +Liaison!... Liaison!... The foreign term beat again and again +against Bonbright's consciousness before it gained admission. Used in +connection with Ruth Frazer, with his relations with Ruth Frazer, it +was dead, devoid of meaning, conveyed no meaning to his brain. + +"Liaison, sir!... Liaison?" he said, fumblingly. + +"I can find a plainer term if you insist." + +For a moment Bonbright felt curiously calm, curiously cold, curiously +detached from the scene. He regarded the other man.... This man was +his father. His FATHER! The laws of life and of humanity demanded +that he regard this man with veneration. Yet, offhand, without +investigation, this man could jump to a vile conclusion regarding +him. Not only that, but could accuse him, not of guilt, but of +failing to conceal guilt!... Respectability! He knew he was watching +a manifestation of the family tradition. It was wrong to commit an +unworthy act, but it was a sin unspeakable to be caught by the public +in the commission. + +His mind worked slowly. It was a full half minute before the thought +bored through to him that HE was not the sole nor the greatest +sufferer by this accusation. It was not HE who was insulted. It was +not HE who was outraged.... It was HER! + +His father could think that of her--casually. The mere fact that she +was poor, not of his station, a wage-earner, made it plain to the +senior Foote that Ruth Frazer would welcome a squalid affair with his +son.... The Sultan throwing his handkerchief. + +Bonbright's calm gave place to turmoil, his chill to heat. + +"It's not true," he said, haltingly, using feeble words because +stronger had not yet had time to surge up to the surface. + +"Bosh!" said the father. + +Then Bonbright blazed. Restraints crumbled. The Harvard manner peeled +off and lay quivering with horror at his feet. He stepped a pace +closer to his father, so that his face was close to his father's +face, and his smoldering eyes were within inches of his father's +scornful ones. + +"It's a lie," he said, huskily, "a damned, abominable, insulting +lie." + +"Young man," his father shipped back, "be careful...." + +"Careful!... I don't know who carried this thing to you, but whoever +did was a miserable, sneaking mucker. He lied and he knew he lied. +... And you, sir, you were willing to believe. Probably you were +eager to believe.... I sha'n't defend Miss Frazer. Only a fool or a +mucker could believe such a thing of her.... Yes, I have been to see +her, and I'll tell you why.... I'll tell you why, good and plenty! +... My first day in this place she was the only human, pleasant thing +I met. Her smile was the only life or brightness in the place.... +Everything else was dead men's bones. The place is a tomb and it +stinks of graveclothes. Our whole family stinks of graveclothes. +Family tradition!... Men dead and rotten and eaten by worms--they +run this place, and you want me to let them run me.... Every move +you make you consult a skeleton.... And you want to smash and crush +and strangle me so that I'll be willing to walk with a weight of dead +bones.... I've tried. You are my father, and I thought maybe you +knew best.... I've submitted. I've submitted to your humiliations, +to having everything that's ME--that is individual in me--stamped +out, and stuff molded to the family pattern rammed back in its place. +... She was the only bright spot in the whole outfit--and you kicked +her out.... And I've been going to see her--just to see her smile +and to get courage from it to start another day with you.... That's +what my life has been here, and you made it so, and you will keep on +making it so.... Probably you'll grind me into the family groove. +Maybe I'm ground already, but that doesn't excuse what you've just +said, and it doesn't make it any less an abominable lie, nor the man +who reported it to you any less a muck-hearted sewer..." + +He stopped, pale, panting, quivering. + +"How dare you!... How dare--" + +"Dare!"... Bonbright glared at his father; then he felt a great, +quivering emotion welling up within him, a something he was ashamed +to have the eye of man look upon. His lips began to tremble. He swung +on his heel and ran staggeringly toward his door, but there he +stopped, clutched the door frame, and cried, chokingly, "It's a lie. +... A lie.... A slimy lie!" + + + + +CHAPTER XI + + +Mr. Foote stood motionless, staring after his son as be might have +stared at some phenomenon which violated a law of nature; for +instance, as he might have stared at the sun rising in the west, at a +stream flowing uphill, at Newton's apple remaining suspended in air +instead of falling properly to the ground. He was not angry--yet. +That personal and individual emotion would come later; what he +experienced now was a FAMILY emotion, a staggering astonishment +participated in by five generations of departed Bonbright Footes. + +He was nonplussed. Here had happened a thing which could not happen. +In the whole history of the Foote family there had never been +recorded an instance of a son uttering such words to his father or of +his family. There was no instance of an outburst even remotely +resembling this one. It simply could not be.... And yet it was. He +had witnessed it, listened to it, had been the target at which his +son's hot words had been hurled. + +For most occurrences in his life Mr. Foote could find a family +precedent. This matter had been handled thus, and that other matter +had been handled so. But this thin--it had never been handled because +it had never happened. He was left standing squarely on his own feet, +without aid or support. + +Mortification mingled with his astonishment. It had remained for him- +-who had thought to add to the family laurels the literary +achievement of portraying philosophically the life of the Marquis +Lafayette--to father a son who could be guilty of thinking such +thoughts and uttering such words. He looked about the room +apprehensively, as if he feared to find assembled there the shades of +departed Bonbrights who had been eavesdropping, as the departed are +said to do by certain psychic persons.... He hoped they had not been +listening at his keyhole, for this was a squalid happening that he +must smother, cover up, hide forever from their knowledge. + +These sensations were succeeded by plain, ordinary, common, +uncultured, ancestorless anger. Bonbright Foote VI retained enough +personality, enough of his human self, to be able to become angry. +True, he did not do it as one of his molders would have done; he was +still a Foote, even in passion. It was a dignified, a cultured, a +repressed passion... but deep-seated and seething for an outlet, +just the same. What he felt might be compared distantly to what other +men feel when they seize upon the paternal razor strop and apply it +wholesomely to that portion of their son's anatomy which tradition +says is most likely to turn boys to virtue.... He wanted to compel +Bonbright to make painful reparation to his ancestors. He wanted to +inflict punishment of some striking, uncommon, distressing sort.... + +His anger increased, and he became even more human. With a trifle +more haste than was usual, with the studied, cultured set of his lips +less studied and cultured than ever they had been before, he strode +to his son's door. Something was going to happen. He was restraining +himself, but something would happen now. He felt it and feared it. +... His rage must have an outlet. Vaguely he felt that fire must be +fought with fire--and he all unaccustomed to handling that element. +But he would rise to the necessities.... + +He stepped into Bonbright's room, keyed up to eruption, but he did +not erupt. Nobody was there to erupt AT. Bonbright was gone.... + +Mr. Foote went back to his desk and sat there nervously drumming on +its top with his fingers. He was not himself. He had never been so +disturbed before and did not know it was possible for him to be upset +in this manner. There had been other crises, other disagreeable +happenings in his life, but he had met them calmly, dispassionately, +with what he was pleased to call philosophy. He had liked to fancy +himself as ruled wholly by intellect and not at all by emotion. And +now emotion had caught him up as a tidal wave might catch up a strong +swimmer, and tossed him hither and thither, blinded by its spray and +helpless. + +His one coherent thought was that something must be done about it. At +such a moment some fathers would have considered the advisability of +casting their sons loose to shift for themselves as a punishment for +too much independence and for outraging the laws requiring +unquestioning respect for father from son. This course did not even +occur to Mr. Foote. It was in the nature of things that it should +not, for in his mind his son was a permanent structure, a sort of +extension on the family house. He was THERE. Without him the family +ended, the family business passed into the hands of strangers. There +would be no Bonbright Foote VIII who, in his turn, should become the +father of Bonbright Foote IX, and so following. No, he did not hold +even tentatively the idea of disinheritance. + +Something, however, must be done, and the something must result in +his son's becoming what he wanted his son to become. Bonbright must +be grasped and shoved into the family groove and made to travel and +function there. There could be no surrender, no wavering, no +concession made by the family.... The boy must be made into what he +ought to be--but how? And he must have his lesson for this day's +scene. He must be shown that he could not, with impunity, outrage the +Family Tradition and flout the Family Ghosts.... Again--how? + +What Bonbright intended in his present state of boyish rage and +revolt, his father did not consider. It was characteristic of him +that he failed to think of that. All his considerations were of what +he and the Family should do to Bonbright.... A general would +doubtless have called this defective strategy. To win battles one +must have some notion of the enemy's intentions--and of his +potentialities.... His determination--set and stiff as cold metal-- +was that something unpleasant should happen to the boy and that the +boy should be brought to his senses.... If anyone had hinted to him +that the boy was just coming to his senses he would have listened as +one listens to a patent absurdity. + +He pressed the buzzer which summoned Rangar, and presently that soft- +footed individual appeared silently in the door--looking as Mr. Foote +had never seen him look before. Rangar was breathing hard, he was +flustered, his necktie was awry, and his face was ivory white. Also, +though Mr. Foote did not take in this detail, his eyes smoldered with +restrained malignancy. + +"Why, Rangar," said Mr. Foote, "what's wrong?" + +"Wrong, Mr. Foote!... I--It was Mr. Bonbright." + +"What about Mr. Bonbright?" + +"A moment ago he came rushing out of his office--I use the word +rushing advisedly.... He was in a rage, sir. He was, you could see +it plain. I--I was in his way, sir, and I stepped aside. But he +wouldn't have it. No, sir, he wouldn't.... He reached out, Mr. +Foote, and grabbed me; yes, sir, grabbed me right before the whole +office. It was by the front of the shirt and the necktie, and he +shook me.... He's a strong young man.... And he said, 'You're the +sneak that's been running to father with lies,' and then he shook me +again. 'I suppose,' he says in a second, 'that I've got to expect to +be spied on.... Go ahead, it's a job that fits you.' Yes, sir, +that's exactly what he said in his own words. 'Fits me,' says he. And +then he shook me again and threw me across the alleyway so that I +fell over on a desk. 'Spy ahead,' he says, so that everybody in the +office heard him and was snickering at me, 'but report what you see +after this--and see to it it's the truth.... One more lie like this +one,' he says, and then stopped and rushed on out of the office. It +was a threat, Mr. Foote, and he meant it. He means me harm." + +"Nonsense!" said Mr. Foote, holding himself resolutely in the +character he had built for himself. "A fit of boyish temper." + +Rangar's eyes glinted, but he made no rejoinder. + +"He rather lost his temper with ME," said Mr. Foote, "when I accused +him of a liaison with that girl.... He denied it, Rangar, or so I +understood. He was very young and--tempestuous about it. Are you sure +you were right?" + +"What else would he be going there for, Mr. Foote?" + +"My idea exactly." + +"Unless, sir, he fancies he's in love with the girl.... I once knew +a young man in a position similar to Mr. Bonbright's who fell in love +with a girl who sold cigars in a hotel.... He fairly DOGGED her, +sir. Wanted to marry her. You wouldn't believe it, but that's what he +did, and his family had to buy her off and send her away or he'd have +done it, too.... It might happen to any young man, Mr. Foote." + +"Not to a member of my family, Rangar." + +"I can't agree with you, sir.... Nobody's immune to it. You can't +deny that Mr. Bonbright has been going to see her regularly. Five or +six times he's been there, and stayed a long time every visit.... It +was one thing or the other he went for, and you can't deny that. If +he says it wasn't what you accused him of, then it was the other." + +"You mean that my son--a Foote--could fall in love, as you call it, +with the daughter of a boarding house and a companion of anarchists?" + +"I hate to say it to you, sir, but there isn't anything else to +believe.... He's young, Mr. Foote, and fiery. She isn't bad looking, +either, and she's clever. A clever girl can do a lot with a boy, no +matter who he is, if she sets her heart on him. It wouldn't be a bad +match for a girl like her if she was to entice Mr. Bonbright into a +marriage." + +"Impossible, Rangar.... However, you have an eye kept on him. I want +to be told every move he makes, where he goes, who he sees. I want to +know everything about him, Rangar. Will you see to it?" + +"Yes, sir," said Rangar, a gleam of malice again visible in his eyes. + +"What do you know about this girl? Have you had her looked up?" + +"Not fully, sir. But I've heard she was heart and soul with what +these anarchists believe. Her father was one of them. Killed by the +police or soldiers or somebody.... The unions educated her. That's +why Dulac went to live there--to help them out.... And it's been +reported to me, Mr. Foote, that Dulac was sweet on her himself. That +came from a reliable source." + +"My son a rival of an anarchist for the favor of the daughter of a +cheap boarding house!" exclaimed Mr. Foote. + +"This Dulac was seen, Mr. Foote, with reference to the strike. He's a +fanatic. Nothing could be done with him. He actually offered violence +to our agent who attempted to show him how it would be to his benefit +to--to be less energetic. We offered him--" + +"I don't care to hear what we offered him. Such details are +distasteful, Rangar. That's what I hire you for, isn't it?" + +"Yes, sir.... Anyhow, Mr. Foote, he couldn't be bought." + +"Yes.... Yes. Well, we'll have to continue along the lines we've +been following. They have been not unsuccessful." + +"True enough. It's just a question of time now. It might do some +good, Mr. Foote, to have the rumor get about that we wouldn't take +back any men who did not apply for reinstatement before the end of +next week.... There's considerable discontent, due largely to +insufficient nourishment. Yes, we can lay it to that, I imagine. It's +this man Dulac that holds the strike together. If only every laboring +man had a dozen babies there'd be less strikes," Rangar finished, not +exactly callously, but in a matter-of-fact way. If he had thought of +it he might have added, "and a sick wife." Rangar would not have +hesitated to provide each striker with the babies and the wife, +purely as a strike-breaking measure, if he could have managed the +matter. + +"They're improvident," said Mr. Foote, sagaciously. "If they must +strike and cut off their earnings every so often, why don't they lay +up savings to carry them through?" + +"They seem to have the notion, sir, that they don't earn enough to +save. That, while it isn't their main grievance, is an important one. +But the idiots put nonsensical, immaterial grievances ahead of money +matters mostly.... Rights! Rights to do this or not to do that--to +organize or to sit at board meetings. They're not practical, Mr. +Foote. If it was just money they wanted we might get on with them. +It's men like this Dulac putting notions into their heads that they +haven't brains enough to think of themselves. Social revolution, you +know--that sort of thing." + +"Do what you like about it. You might have notices tacked up outside +the gates stating that we wouldn't take back men who weren't back by +the date you named. And, Rangar, be sure Mr. Bonbright's name is +signed to it. I want to rid the men thoroughly of any absurd ideas +about him." + +"You have, sir. If Dulac is a fair sample, you have. Why, he seems +regularly to HATE Mr. Bonbright. Called him names, and that sort of +thing.... Maybe, though, there's something personal mixed up in it." + +"That girl?..." + +"Very likely, sir." + +"You know her, Rangar. She worked under you. What sort of girl is +she?... I mean would you consider it wise to approach her with a +proposition--delicately put, of course--to--say--move to another +city, or something of the sort?" + +"My observation of her--while not close--(you understand I have +little opportunity for close observations of unimportant +subordinates)--was that it would be unwise and--er--futile. She +seemed to have quite a will. Indeed, I may say she seemed stubborn +... and no fool. If she's got a chance at Mr. Bonbright she wouldn't +give it up for a few dollars. Not her, sir." + +"I don't recall her especially. Small--was she not? Not the--ah-- +ripe--rounded type to attract a boy? Eh?" + +"Curves and color don't always do it, Mr. Foote, I've observed. I've +known scrawny ones, without a thing to stir up the imagination, that +had ten boys running after them to one running after the kind they +have pictures of on calendars.... I don't know if it's brains, or +what, but they've got something that attracts." + +"Hum!... Can't say I've had much experience. Probably you're right. +Anyhow, we're faced by something definite in the way of a condition. +... If the thing is merely a liaison--we can break it up, I imagine, +without difficulty. If my son is so blind to right and wrong, and to +his position, as to want to MARRY the girl, we'll have to resort +promptly to effective measures." + +"Promptly," said Rangar. "And quietly, Mr. Foote. If she got an idea +there was trouble brewing, she might off with him and get married +before we could wink." + +"Heavens!... An anarchistic boarding-house girl for a daughter-in- +law! We'd be a proud family, Rangar." + +"Yes, sir. I understand you leave it with me?" + +"I leave it with you to keep an eye on Bonbright. Consult with me +before acting. My son is in a strange humor. He'll take some +handling, I'm afraid, before we bring him to see things as my son +ought to see them. But I'll bring him there, Rangar. I should be +doing my duty very indifferently, indeed, if I did not. He's +resentful. He wants to display a thing he calls his individuality--as +if our family had use for such things. We're Footes, and I rather +fancy the world knows what that means.... My son shall be a Foote, +Rangar. That's all.... Stay a moment, though. Hereafter bear in mind +I do not care to be troubled with squalid details. If things have to +be done, do them.... If babies must be hungry--why, I suppose it is +a condition that must exist from time to time. The fault of their +fathers.... However, I do not care to hear about them. I am engaged +on an important literary work, as you know, and such things tend to +distract me." + +"Naturally, sir," said Rangar. + +"But you will on no account relax your firmness with these strikers. +They must be shown." + +"They're being shown," said Rangar, grimly, and walked out of the +office. In the corridor his face, which had been expressionless or +obsequious when he saw the need, changed swiftly. His look was that +of a man thinking of an enemy. There was malice, vindictiveness, +hatred in that look, and it expressed with exactness his sentiments +toward young Bonbright Foote.... It did not express all of them, +for, lurking in the background, unseen, was a deep contempt. Rangar +despised Bonbright as a nincompoop, as he expressed it privately. + +"If I didn't think," he said, "I'd get all the satisfaction I need by +leaving him to his father, I'd take a hand myself. But the Foote +spooks will give it to him better than I could.... I can't wish him +any worse luck than to be left to THEM." He chuckled and felt of his +disarranged tie. + +As for Bonbright Foote VI, he was frightened. No other word can +describe his sensations. The idea that his son might marry--actually +MARRY--this girl, was appalling. If the boy should actually take such +an unthinkable step before he could be prevented, what a situation +would arise! + +"Of course it wouldn't last," he said to himself. "Such marriages +never do.... But while it did last--And there might be a child--a +SON!" A Bonbright Foote VIII come of such a mother, with base blood +in his veins! He drew his aristocratic shoulders together as though +he felt a chill. + +"When he comes back," Mr. Foote said, "we'll have this thing out." + +But Bonbright did not come back that day, nor was he visible at home +that night.... The next day dragged by and still he did not appear. +... + + + + +CHAPTER XII + + +Ruth Frazer had been working nearly two months for Malcolm Lightener, +and she liked the place. It had been a revelation to her following +her experience with Bonbright Foote, Incorporated. It INTERESTED her, +fascinated her. There was an atmosphere in the tremendous offices--a +tension, a SNAPPINESS, an alertness, an efficiency that made +Bonbright Foote, Incorporated, seem an anachronism; as belonging in +an earlier, more leisurely, less capable century. There was a spirit +among the workers totally lacking in her former place of employment; +there was an attitude in superiors, and most notable in Malcolm +Lightener himself, which was so different from that of Mr. Foote that +it seemed impossible. Foote held himself aloof from contacts with his +help and his business. Malcolm Lightener was everywhere, interested +in everything, mixing into everything. And though she perceived his +granite qualities, experienced his brusqueness, his gruffness, she, +in common with the office, felt for him something that was akin to +affection. He was the sort to draw forth loyalty. + +Her first encounter with him occurred a couple of days after her +arrival in the office. She was interrupted in the transcription of a +letter by a stern voice behind her, saying: + +"You're young Foote's anarchist, aren't you?" + +She looked up frightened into the unsmiling eyes of Malcolm +Lightener. + +"Mr. Foote--got me my place here," she said, hesitatingly. + +"Here--take this letter." And almost before she could snatch book and +pencil he was dictating, rapidly, dynamically. When Malcolm Lightener +dictated a letter he did it as though he were making a public speech, +with emphasis and gesture. "There," he said, "read it back to me." + +She did, her voice unsteady. + +"Spell isosceles," he demanded. + +She managed the feat accurately. + +"Uh!... That usually gets 'em.... Needn't transcribe that letter. +Like it here?" + +"Yes, sir." + +"Why?" + +She looked up at him, considering the matter. Why did she like it +there? "Because," she said, slowly, "it doesn't seem like just a--a-- +big, grinding machine, and the people working here like wheels and +pulleys and little machines. It all feels ALIVE, and--and--we feel +like human beings." + +"Huh!..." he grunted, and frowned down at her. "Brains," he said. +"Mighty good thing to have. Took brains to be able to think that--and +say it." He turned away, then said, suddenly, over his shoulder, "Got +any bombs in your desk?" + +"Bombs!..." + +"Because," he said, with no trace of a smile, "we don't allow little +girls to bring bombs in here.... If you see anything around that you +think needs an infernal machine set off under it, why, you come and +tell me. See?... Tell me before you explode anything--not after. You +anarchists are apt to get the cart before the horse." + +"I'm not an anarchist, Mr. Lightener." + +"Huh!... What are you, then?" + +"I think--I'm sure I'm a Socialist." + +"All of the same piece of cloth.... Mind, if you feel a bomb coming +on--see me about it." He walked away to stop by the desk of a mailing +clerk and enter into some kind of conversation with the boy. + +Ruth looked after him in a sort of daze. Then she heard the girls +about her laughing. + +"You've passed your examination, Miss Frazer," said the girl at the +next desk. "Everybody has to.... You never can tell what he's going +to do, but he's a dear. Don't let him scare you. If he thought he had +he'd be tickled to death--and then he'd find some way to show you you +needn't be at all." + +"Oh!" said Ruth. + +More than once she saw laboring men, machinists, men in greasy +overalls, with grimy hands and smeared faces, pass into Malcolm +Lightener's office, and come out with the Big Boss walking beside +them, talking in a familiar, gruff, interested way. She was startled +sometimes to hear such men address him by his first name--and to see +no lightning from heaven flash blastingly. She was positively +startled once when a machinist flatly contradicted Lightener in her +hearing on some matter pertaining to his work. + +"That hain't the way at all," the man said, flatly. Ruth waited for +the explosion. + +"Landers planned it that way." Landers was chief engineer in the +plant, drawing a princely salary. + +"Landers is off his nut. He got it out of a book. I'm DOIN' it. I +tell you it won't work." + +"Why?" Always Lightener had a WHY. He was constantly shooting it at +folks, and it behooved them to have a convincing answer. The +machinist had, and he set it forth at length and technically. +Lightener listened. + +"You win," he said, when the man was done. That was all. + +More than once Ruth saw Hilda Lightener in the office. Usually the +girls in an office fancy they have a grudge against the fortunate +daughter of their employer. They are sure she snubs them, or is a +snob, or likes to show off her feathers before them. This was notably +absent in Hilda's case. She knew many by name and stopped to chat +with them. She was simple, pleasant, guiltless of pomp and +circumstance in her comings and goings. + +"They say she's going to marry young Foote. The Foote company makes +axles for us," said Ruth's neighbor, and after that Ruth became more +interested in Hilda. + +She liked Bonbright Foote and was sorry for him. Admitting the +unwisdom of his calls upon her, she had not the heart to forbid him, +especially that he had shown no signs of sentiment, or of stepping +beyond the boundary lines of simple friendship.... She saw to it +that he and Dulac did not meet. + +As for Dulac--she had disciplined him for his outbreak as was the +duty of a self-respecting young woman, and had made him eat his piece +of humble pie. It had not affected her veneration for his work, nor +her admiration for the man and his sincerity and his ability.... She +had answered his question, and the answer had been yes, for she had +come to believe that she loved him.... + +She saw how tired he was looking. She perceived the discouragements +that weighed on him, and saw, as he refused to see, that the strike +was a failure in spite of his efforts. And she was sensible. The +strike had failed; nothing was to be gained by sustaining the ebbing +remnants of it, by making men and women and children suffer futilely. +... She would have ended it and begun straight-way preparing a strike +that would not fail. But she did not say so to him. He HAD to fight. +She saw that. She saw, too, that it was not in him to admit defeat or +to surrender. It would be necessary to crush him first. + +And then, at five o'clock, as she came out of the office she found +Bonbright Foote waiting for her in his car. It had never happened +before. + +"I--I came for you," he said, awkwardly, yet with something of +tenseness in his voice. + +"You shouldn't," she said, not unkindly. He would understand the +reasons. + +"I had to," he said. "I--all day I've done nothing but wait to see +you. I've got to talk to you.... Please, now that I'm here, won't +you get in?" + +She saw that something was wrong, that something out of the ordinary +had happened, and as she stepped into the car she shot a glance at +his set face and felt a wave of sympathy for him. + +"I want you to--to have something to eat with me--out in the country. +I want to get away from town. Let me send a messenger to your mother. +I know you don't want to, and--and all that, but you'll come, won't +you?" + +Ruth considered. There was much to consider, but she knew he was an +honest, wholesome boy--and he was in trouble. + +"This once," she said, and let him see her grin. + +"Thank you," he said, simply. + +It was but a short drive to an A. D. T. office, where Bonbright wrote +a message to Mrs. Frazer: + +I'm taking your daughter to Apple Lake to dinner. I hope you won't +mind. And I promise to have her home safe and early. + +A boy was dispatched with this, and Bonbright and Ruth drove out the +Avenue with the evening sun in their faces, toward distant, beautiful +Apple Lake. Bonbright drove in silence, his eyes on the road. Ruth +was alone in her appreciation of the loveliness of the waning day. + +The messenger left on his bicycle, but had not gone farther than +around the first corner when a gentleman drew up beside him in an +automobile. + +"Hey, kid, I want to speak to you," said Mr. Rangar. + +The boy stopped and the car stopped. + +"You've got a message there that I'm interested in," said Rangar. "It +isn't sealed. I want a look at it." He held out a five-dollar bill. +The boy pocketed the bill and handed over the message, which Rangar +read and returned to him. Then Rangar drove to the office from which +the boy had come and dispatched a message of his own, one not covered +by his instructions from Mr. Foote. It was a private matter with him, +inspired by an incident of the morning having to do with a rumpled +necktie and a ruffled dignity. The malice which had glittered in his +eyes then was functioning now. + +Rangar's message was to Dulac. + +"Your girl's just gone to Apple Lake with young Foote in his car," it +said. That was all, but it seemed ample to Rangar. + +Bonbright was not a reckless driver, but he drove rapidly this +evening, with a sort of driven eagerness. From, time to time Ruth +turned and glanced at his face and wondered what could have happened, +for she had never seen him like this before, even in his darkest +moments. There was a new element in his bearing, an element never +there before. Discouragement, apathy, she had seen, and bitterness. +She had seen wistfulness, hopelessness, chagrin, humiliation, but +never until now had she seen set determination, smoldering embers of +rage. What, she wondered, could this boy's father have done to him +now? + +Soon they were beyond the rim of industry which banded the city, and, +leaving behind them towering chimneys, smokeless for the night, +clouds of released working-men waiting their turns to crowd into +overloaded street cars, the grimy, busy belt line which extended in a +great arc through the body of the manufacturing strip, they passed +through sprouting, mushroomlike suburban villages--villages which had +not been there the year before, which would be indistinguishable from +the city itself the year after. Farther on they sped between huge- +lettered boards announcing the location of real-estate developments +which as yet consisted only of new cement sidewalks, immature trees +promising future shade, and innumerable stakes marking lot +boundaries. Mile after mile these extended, a testimonial to the +faith of men in the growth of their city.... And then came the +country, guiltless of the odors of gregarious humanity, of gasses, of +smokes, of mankind itself, and of the operations which were preparing +its food. Authentic farms spread about them; barns and farmhouses +were dropped down at intervals; everywhere was green quiet, softened, +made to glow enticingly by the sun's red disk about to dip behind the +little hills.... All this Ruth saw and loved. It was an unaccustomed +sight, for she was tied to the city. It altered her mood, softened +her, made her more pliable. Bonbright could have planned no better +than to have driven her along this road.... + +Presently they turned off at right angles, upon a country road shaded +by century-old maples--a road that meandered leisurely along, now +dipping into a valley created for agriculture, now climbing a +hillside rich with fruit trees; and now and then, from hilltop, or +through gap in the verdure, the gleam of quiet, rush-fringed lakes +came to Ruth--and touched her, touched her so that her heart was soft +and her lashes wet.... The whole was so placid, so free from +turmoil, from competition, from the tussling of business and the +surging upward of down-weighted classes. She was grateful to it. + +Yet when, as she did now and then, she glanced at Bonbright, she felt +the contrast. All that was present in the landscape was absent from +his soul. There was no peace there, no placidity, but unrest, +bitterness, unhappiness--grimness. Yes, grimness. When the word came +into her mind she knew it was the one she had been searching for.... +Why was he so grim? + +Presently they entered upon a road which ran low beside Apple Lake +itself, with tiny ripples lapping almost at the tire marks in the +sand. She looked, and breathed deeply and gladly. If she could only +live on such a spot!... + +The club house was deserted save by the few servants, and Bonbright +gave directions that they should be served on the veranda. It was +almost the first word he had uttered since leaving the city. He led +the way to a table, from which they could sit and look out on the +water. + +"It's lovely," she said. + +"I come here a good deal," he said, without explanation, but she +understood. + +"If I were you, I'd LIVE here. Every day I would have the knowledge +that I was coming home to THIS in the evening.... You could. Why +don't you, I wonder?" + +"I don't know. I can't remember a Foote who has ever lived in such a +place. If it hasn't been done in my family, of course I couldn't do +it." + +She pressed her lips together at the bitter note in his voice. It was +out of tune. "Have the ancestors been after you?" she asked. She +often spoke of the ancestors lightly and jokingly, which she saw he +rather liked. + +"The whole lot have been riding me hard. And I'm a well-trained nag. +I never buck or balk.... I never did till to-day." + +"To-day?" + +"I bucked them off in a heap," he said, with no trace of humor. He +was dead serious. "I didn't know I could do it, but all of a sudden I +was plunging and rearing--and snorting, I expect.... And they were +off." + +"To stay?" + +He dropped his eyes and fell silent. "Anyhow," he said, presently, +"it's a relief to be running free even for an hour." + +"When they go to climb back why don't you buck some more? Now that +they're off--keep them off." + +"It's not so easy. You see, I've been trained all my life to carry +them. You can't break off a thing like that in an instant. A priest +doesn't turn atheist in a night... and this Family Tradition +business is like a religion. It gets into your bones. You RESPECT it. +You feel it demanding things of you and you can't refuse.... I +suppose there is a duty." + +"To yourself," she said, quickly. + +"To THEM--and to the--the future.... But I bucked them off once. +Maybe they'll never ride so hard again, and maybe they'll try to +break me by riding harder.... Until to-day I never had a notion of +fighting back--but I'm going to give them a job of it now.... There +are things I WILL do. They sha'n't always have their way. Right now, +Miss Frazer, I've broken with the whole thing. They may be able to +fetch me back. I don't know.... Sometime I'll have to go. When +father's through I'd have to go, anyhow--to head the business." + +"Your father ought to change the name of the business to Family +Ghosts, Incorporated," she said, with an attempt to lighten his +seriousness. + +"I'll be general manager--responsible to a board of directors from +across the Styx," he said, with an approach to a smile. "Here's our +waiter. I telephoned our order. Hope I've chosen to please you." + +"Indeed you have," she replied. "I feel quite the aristocrat. I ought +not to do this sort of thing.... But I'm glad to do it once. I abhor +the rich," she said, laughing, "but some of the things they do and +have are mighty pleasant." + +After a while she said: "If I were a rich man's wife I'd be something +more than a society gadabout. I'd insist on knowing his business... +and I'd make him do a lot of things for his workmen. Think of being a +woman and able to do so much for thousands of--of my class," she +finished. + +"Your class!" he said, sharply. + +"I belong to the laboring class. First, because I was born into it, +and, second, because my heart is with it." + +"Class doesn't touch you. It doesn't concern you. You're YOURSELF." +For the first time in her acquaintance with him he made her uneasy. +His eyes and the way he spoke those sentences disturbed her. + +"Nonsense!" she said. + +Neither spoke for some time. It was growing dark now, and lights were +glowing on the veranda. "When we're through," Bonbright said, "let's +walk down by the lake. There's a bully walk and a place to sit.... I +asked you to come because I wanted to take you there--miles away from +everybody...." + +She was distinctly startled now, but helpless. She read storm +signals, but no harbor was at hand. + +"We must be getting back," she said, lamely. + +"It's not eight. We can go back in an hour.... Shall we walk down +now? I can't wait, Ruth, to say what I've got to say...." + +It was impossible to hold back, futile to attempt escape. She knew +now why he had brought her and what he wanted to say, but she could +not prevent it.... If he must have his say let it be where he +desired. Very grave now, unhappy, her joy marred, she walked down the +steps by his side and along the shore of the lake. "Here," he said, +presently, drawing her into a nook occupied by a bench. She sat down +obediently. + +Was it fortunate or unfortunate that she did not know an automobile +was just turning into the lake road, a hired automobile, occupied by +her fiance, Dulac? Rangar's note had reached his hands and he had +acted as Rangar had hoped.... + + + + +CHAPTER XIII + + +Until a few moments before Ruth had never had a suspicion of +Bonbright's feeling for her; she had not imagined he would ever cross +that distinct line which separates the friend from the suitor. It was +an unpleasant surprise to her. Not that he was repugnant to her, but +she had already bestowed her affections, and now she would have to +hurt this boy who had already suffered so much at the hands of +others. She recoiled from it. She blamed herself for her blindness, +but she was not to blame. What she had failed to foresee Bonbright +himself had realized only that morning. + +He had awakened suddenly to the knowledge that his sentiment for Ruth +Frazer was not calm friendship, but throbbing love. He had been +awakened to it rudely, not as most young men are shown that they +love.... When he flung out of his father's office that morning he +had recognized only a just rage; hardly had his feet carried him over +the threshold before rage was crowded out by the realization of love. +His father's words had aroused his rage because he loved the woman +they maligned! Suddenly he knew it.... + +"It's SO," he said to himself. "It's so--and I didn't know it." + +It was disconcerting, but he was glad. Almost at once he realized +what a change this thing brought into his life, and the major +consequences of it.... First, he would have her--he must have her-- +he would not live without her. It required no effort of determination +to arrive at that decision. To win her, to have her for his own, was +now the one important thing in his life. To do so would mean--what +would it mean? The Family, dead and living, would be outraged. His +father would stand aghast at his impiousness; his mother, class +conscious as few of the under dogs are ever class conscious, would +refuse to receive this girl as her daughter.... There would be +bitterness--but there would be release. By this one step he would +break with the Family Tradition and the Family Ghosts. They would +cast him out.... But would they cast him out? He was Bonbright Foote +VII, crown prince of the dynasty, vested with rights in the family +and in the family's property by family laws of primogeniture and +entail.... No, he would not be cast out, could not be cast out, for +his father would let no sin of his son's stand in the way of a +perpetuation of the family. Bonbright knew that if a complete breach +opened between his father and himself it must be his hand that opened +it. His father's would never do so.... He wondered if he could do +so--if, when he was calm, he would desire to do so. + +Once he recognized his love he could not be still; office walls could +not contain him. He was in a fever to see Ruth with newly opened +eyes, with eyes that would see her as they had not seen her in the +days before.... He rushed out--to encounter Hangar, and to +experience a surging return of rage.... Then he went on, with no aim +or purpose but to get rid of the time that must pass before he could +see Ruth. It was ten o'clock, and he could not see her until five. +Seven hours.... + +Now she was here, within reach of his hand, her face, not beautiful +by day, very lovely to his eyes as the rising moon stretched a ribbon +of light across the lake to touch her with its magic glow... and he +could not find words to say what must be said. + +He had seated her on the bench and now paced up and down before her, +struggling to become coherent. + +Then words came, a torrent of them, not coherent, not eloquent, but +REAL. Ruth recognized the reality in them. "I want you," he said, +standing over her. "I didn't know--I didn't realize... until to-day. +It's so.... It's been so right along. That's why I had to come to +you.... I couldn't get along without seeing you, but I didn't know +why.... I thought it was to see you smile. But it was because I had +to be near you.... I want to be near you always. This morning I +found out--and all day I've waited to see you.... That's all I've +done--thought about you and waited. It seems as if morning were years +away.... I don't know what I've done all day--just wandered around. +I didn't eat--until to-night. I couldn't. I couldn't do anything +until I saw you--and told you.... That's why I brought you here.... +I wanted to tell you HERE--not back there.... Away from all that. +... I can't go on without you--that's what you mean to me. You're +NECESSARY--like air or water.... I--Maybe you haven't thought about +me this way. I didn't about you.... But you MUST... you MUST!" + +It was pitiful. Tears wet Ruth's cheeks and she caught her breath to +restrain a rising sob. + +He became calmer, gentler. "Maybe I've surprised you," he said. +"Maybe I've frightened you--I hope not. I don't mean to frighten you. +I don't want you ever to be frightened or worried.... I want to keep +all kinds of suffering out of your life if you'll let me. Won't you +let me?..." He stood waiting. + +"Mr. Foote," she said, presently, "I--" then she stopped. She had +intended to tell him about Dulac; that she loved him and had promised +to marry him, but she could not utter the words. It would hurt him so +to know that she loved another man. She could refuse him without that +added pain. "Don't you see," she said, "how impossible it is? It +wouldn't do--even if I cared for you." + +"If you cared for me," he said, "nothing could make it impossible." + +"We belong in different worlds.... You couldn't come down to mine; I +wouldn't fit into yours. My world wouldn't have you, and your world +wouldn't have me.... Don't you see?" + +"I don't see. What has your world or mine to do with it? It's just +you and me." + +"When you saw that your family wouldn't have me, when you found out +that your friends wouldn't be friends with me, and that they didn't +want to be friends with you any longer just because you married me +..." + +"I don't want any friends or family but you," he said, eagerly, +boyishly. + +"Be reasonable, Mr. Foote.... You're rich. Some day you'll be the +head of a great business--with thousands of men working for you.... +I belong with them. You must be against them.... I couldn't bear it. +You know all about me. I've been brought up to believe the things I +believe. My father and grandfather and HIS grandfather worked and +suffered for them.... Just as your ancestors have worked and planned +for the things you represent.... It wouldn't ever do. We couldn't be +happy. Even if I--cared--and did as you ask--it wouldn't last." + +"It would last," he said. "I KNOW. I've been trying to tell you, to +make you believe that you have crowded everything else out of my +life. There's just you in it.... It would last--and every day and +every year it would grow--more wonderful." + +"There must be agreement and sympathy between a husband and his wife, +Mr. Foote.... Oh, I KNOW. In the bigger things. And there we could +never agree. It would make trouble--trouble that couldn't be avoided +nor dodged. It would be there with us every minute--and we'd know it. +You'd know I hated the things you stand for and the things you have +to do.... No man could bear that--to have his wife constantly +reproaching him." + +"I think," he said, "that your word would be my law...." + +She sat silent, startled. Unasked, unsought, a thought had entered +her mind; a terrifying thought, but a big and vital thought. HER WORD +WOULD BE HIS LAW. Her influence would be upon him.... And he was +master of thousands of her class. He would be master of more +thousands.... If she were his wife--if her word might become his +law--how would those laboring men be affected? Would her word be his +law with respect to them?... + +She did not love him, but she did love the Cause she represented, +that her promised husband, Dulac, represented.... Her father had +given his life for it. She had given nothing. Now she could give-- +herself.... She could sacrifice herself, she could pass by her love-- +but would it avail anything?... This boy loved her, loved her with +all his strength and honesty. He would continue to love her. She +believed that.... If, not loving him, she should marry him, she +would be able to hold his love--and her word would be in some sort +his law. She could influence him--not abruptly, not suddenly, but +gradually, cleverly, cunningly. She could use him for her great +purpose. Thousands of men might be happier, safer from hunger and +misery, closer to a realization of their hope, if she gave herself to +this boy.... She was filled with exaltation--a Joan of Arc listening +to her Voices.... + +It was possible--possible.... And if it were possible, if she could +accomplish this great thing for the Cause, dared she avoid it? Was it +not a holy duty? + +Remember her parentage, her training; remember that she had drawn +into her being enthusiasm, fanaticism with the air she breathed in +the very cradle. She was a revolutionist.... Greater crimes than +loveless marriages have been committed in the name of Enthusiasm for +a Cause. + +She hesitated. What should she say?.... She must think, for a new +face was upon the matter. She must think, and she must talk with +Dulac. Dulac was stronger than she--but he saw eye to eye with her. +The things she set up and worshiped in their shrines he worshiped +more fervently.... She must put the boy off with evasion. She must +postpone her answer until she was certain she saw her duty clearly. + +Love of humanity in the mass was in her heart--it shouldered out +fairness to an individual man. She did not think of this. If she had +thought it might not have mattered, for if she were willing to +immolate herself would she not have been as ready to sacrifice one +man--for the good of thousands? + +"I-" she began, and was dimly conscious of shame at her duplicity. "I +did not know you--wanted me this way.... Let me think. I can't +answer--to-night. Wait.... Give me time." + +His voice was glad as he answered, and its gladness shamed her again. +"Wait.... I'd wait forever. But I don't want to wait forever.... It +is more than I hoped, more than I had the right to hope. I know I +took you by surprise.... Let me have time and the chance to make you +love me--to let you get used to the idea of my loving you. But try +not to be long. I'm impatient--you don't know how impatient...." + +"I-I sha'n't be long," she said. "You mustn't build too many hopes...." + +He laughed. She had never heard him laugh with such lightness, with +such a note of soul-gladness, before. "Hope.... I shall eat and +drink hope--until you--come to me. For you will come to me. I know +it.... It couldn't be any other way." He laughed again, gayly. And +then from out the blackness of the surrounding shrubbery there +plunged the figure of a man.... + +Before Bonbright could lift a hand to shield himself blows began to +fall, blows not delivered with the naked fist. Once, twice, again the +man struck with the strength of frenzy. Ruth sat silent, stunned, +paralyzed by fright, and uttered no scream. Then she saw the face of +Bonbright's assailant. It was Dulac--and she understood. + +She sprang to him, clutched at his arm, but he hurled her off and +struck again.... It was enough. Bonbright stood wavering a moment, +struggling to remain upright, but sagging slowly. Then he slumped to +the ground in a sort of uncanny sitting posture, his head sunk upon +his knees. + +Ruth stood looking down upon him with horror-widened eyes. Dulac +hurled his weapon into the bushes and turned upon her furiously, +seizing her arm and dragging her to him so that his eyes, glowing +with unreason, could burn into hers. + +"Oh--" she moaned. + +"I've taught him," Dulac said, his voice quivering with rage. "It was +time... the vermin. Because he was rich he thought he was safe. He +thought he could do anything.... But I've taught him. They starve us +and stamp on us--and then steal our wives and smirch our +sweethearts." + +Ruth tried to bend over Bonbright, to lift his head, to give him +assistance, but Dulac jerked her away. + +"Don't touch him. Don't dare to touch him," he said. + +"He doesn't--move," she said, in a horrified whisper. "Maybe you've- +killed him." + +"He deserved it.... And you--have you anything to say? What are you +doing here--with him?" + +"Let me go," she panted. "Let me see--I must see. He can't be--dead. +... You--you BEAST!" she cried, shrilly. "He was good. He meant no +harm.... He loved me, and that's why this happened. It's my fault-- +my fault." + +"Be still," he commanded. "He loved you--you admit it. You dare admit +it--and you here alone with him at night." + +"He asked--me--to--marry--him," she said, faintly. "He was not--what +you think.... He was a good--boy." + +Suddenly she tried to break from him to go to Bonbright, but he +clutched her savagely. "Help!... Help!..." she cried. Then his hand +closed over her mouth and he gathered her up in his arms and carried +her away. + +He did not look behind at Bonbright huddled there with the ribbon of +moonlight pointing across the lake at his limp body, but half +staggered, half ran to his waiting car.... A snarled word, and the +engine started. Ruth, choking, helpless, was carried away, leaving +Bonbright alone and still.... + + + + +CHAPTER XIV + + +Bonbright was on his hands and knees on the edge of the lake, dizzily +slopping water on his head and face. He was struggling toward +consciousness, fighting dazedly for the power to act. As one who, in +a dream, reviews the events of another half-presented dream, he knew +what had happened. Consciousness had not fully deserted him. Dulac +had attacked him; Dulac had carried Ruth away.... Somehow he had no +fears for her personal safety, but he must follow. He must KNOW that +she was safe.... + +Not many minutes had passed since Dulac struck him down. His body was +strong, well trained to sustain shocks and to recover from them, +thanks to four years of college schooling in the man's game of +football. Since he left college he had retained the respect for his +body which had been taught him, and with golf and tennis and +gymnasium he had kept himself fit... so that now his vital forces +marshaled themselves quickly to fight his battle for him. Presently +he raised himself to his feet and stood swaying dizzily; with fingers +that fumbled he tied his handkerchief about his bruised head and +staggered toward his car, for his will urged him on to follow Dulac. + +To crank the motor (for the self-starter had not yet arrived) was a +task of magnitude, but he accomplished it and pulled himself into the +seat. For a moment he lay upon the steering wheel, panting, fighting +back his weakness; then he thrust forward his control lever and the +car began to move. The motion, the kindly touch of the cool night air +against his head, stimulated him; he stepped on the gas pedal and the +car leaped forward as though eager for the pursuit. + +Out into the main road he lurched, grimly clutching the steering +wheel, leaning on it for support, his aching, blurred eyes clinging +to the illuminated way before him, and he drove as he had never +ventured to drive before. Beating against his numbed brain was his +will's sledge-hammer demands for speed, and he obeyed recklessly.... + +Roadside objects flicked by, mile after mile was dropped behind, the +city's outskirts were being snatched closer and closer--and then he +saw the other car far ahead. All that remained to be asked of his car +he demanded now, and he overhauled the smaller, less speedy machine. +Now his lights played on its rear and his horn sounded a warning and +a demand. Dulac's car veered to the side to let him pass, and he +lurched by, only turning a brief, wavering glance upon the other +machine to assure himself that Ruth was there. He saw her in a +flashing second, in the tonneau, with Dulac by her side.... She was +safe, uninjured. Then Bonbright left them behind. + +The road narrowed, with deep ditches on either hand. Here was the +place he sought. He set his brakes, shut off his power, and swung his +car diagonally across the way, so that it would be impossible for +Dulac to pass. Then he alighted, and stood waiting, holding on to his +machine for support. + +The other car came to a stop and Dulac sprang out. Bonbright saw Ruth +rise to follow; heard Dulac say, roughly: "Get back. Stay where you +are." + +"No," she replied, and stepped to the road. + +Bonbright could see how pale she was, how frightened. + +"Don't be afraid," he said to her. "Nothing is going to--happen." + +He stood erect now, free from the support of the car, waiting for +Dulac, who approached menacingly. + +"Dulac," he said, "I can't--fight you. I can't even---defend myself-- +much.... Unless you insist." + +The men were facing each other now, almost toe to toe. Dulac's face +was stormy with passion under scant restraint; Bonbright, though he +swayed a bit unsteadily, faced him with level eyes. Ruth saw the +decent courage of the boy and her fear for him made her clutch +Dulac's sleeve. The man shook her off. + +"I know--why you attacked me," said Bonbright, slowly, "what you +thought.... I--stopped you to--be sure Miss Frazer was safe... and +to tell you you were--wrong.... Not that you have a--right to +question me, but nobody must think--ill of Miss Frazer.... No +misunderstanding...." + +"Get that car out of the way," said Dulac. + +Bonbright shook his head. "Not till I'm--through," he said. "Then you +may--take Miss Frazer home.... But be kind to her--gentle.... I +shall ask her about it--and I sha'n't be--knocked out long." + +"You threaten me, you pampered puppy!" + +"Yes," said Bonbright, grimly, "exactly." + +Dulac started to lift his arm, but Ruth caught it. "No.... No," she +said, in a tense whisper. "You mustn't. Can't you see how--hurt he +is? He can hardly stand.... You're not a COWARD...." + +"Dulac," said Bonbright, "here's the truth: I took Miss Frazer to the +lake to--ask her to--marry me.... No other reason. She was--safe +with me--as with you. I want her for--my wife. Do you understand?... +You thought--what my father thought." + +Ruth uttered a little cry. So THAT was what had happened! + +"All the decency in the world," Bonbright said, "isn't in--union men, +workingmen.... Because I have more money than you--you want to +believe--anything of me.... You're even willing to--believe it of +her.... I can--love as well as if I were poor.... I can--honor and +respect the girl I want to marry as well as if I--carried a union +card.... That is TRUE." + +Dulac laughed shortly; then, even in his rage, he became oratorical, +theatrical. + +"We know the honor and respect of your kind.... We know what our +sisters and daughters have to expect from you. We've learned it. You +talk fair--you dangle your filthy money under their eyes--you promise +this and you promise that.... And then you throw away your toys.... +They come back to us covered with disgrace, heart-broken, marked +forever, and fit to be no man's wife.... That's your respect and +honor. That's your decency.... Leave our women alone.... Go to your +bridge-playing, silly, husband-swapping society women. They know you. +They know what to expect from you--and get what they deserve. Leave +our women alone.... Leave this girl alone. We men have to endure +enough at your hands, but we won't endure this.... We'll do as I did +to-night. I thrashed you--" + +"Like a coward, in the dark, from behind," said Bonbright, boyish +pride insisting upon offering its excuse. "I didn't stop you to argue +about capital and labor. I stopped you--to tell you the truth about +to-night. I've told it." + +"You've lied the way your kind always lies." + +Bonbright's lips straightened, his eyes hardened, and he leaned +forward. "I promised Miss Frazer nothing--should happen. It sha'n't. +... But you're a fool, Dulac. You know I'm telling the truth--but you +won't admit it--because you don't want to. Because I'm not on your +side, you won't admit it.... And that makes you a fool.... Be +still. You haven't hesitated to tell me I lied. I've taken that--and +you'll take what I have to say. It isn't much. I don't know much +about the--differences between your kind and my kind.... But your +side gets more harm than good from men like you. You're a blind +fanatic. You cram your men on lies and stir them up to hate us.... +Maybe there's cause, but you magnify it.... You won't see the truth. +You won't see reason.... You hold us apart. Maybe you're honest-- +fanatics usually are, but fanatics are fools. It does no good to tell +you so. I'm wasting my breath.... Now take Miss Frazer home--and be +careful how you treat her." + +He turned his back squarely and pulled himself into his car. Then he +turned to Ruth. "Good night, Miss Frazer," he said. "I am sorry--for +all this.... May I come for--your answer to-morrow?" + +"No...." she said, tremulously. "Yes...." + +Bonbright straightened his car in the road and drove on. He was at +the end of his strength. He wanted the aid of a physician, and then +he wanted to lie down and sleep, and sleep. The day that had preceded +the attack upon him had been wearing enough to exhaust the sturdiest. +The tension of waiting, the anxiety, the mental disturbance, had +demanded their usual wages of mind and body. Sudden shock had done +the rest. + +He drove to the private hospital of a doctor of his acquaintance, a +member of his club, and gained admission. The doctor himself was +there, by good fortune, and saw Bonbright at once, and examined the +wounds in his scalp. + +"Strikers get you?" he asked. + +"Automobile mix-up," said Bonbright, weakly. + +"Uh-huh!" said the doctor. "I suppose somebody picked up a light +roadster and struck you over the head with it.... Not cut much. No +stitches. A little adhesive'll do the trick--and then.... Sort of +excited, eh? Been under a bit of a strain?... None of my business, +of course.... Get into bed and I'll send up something to tone you +down and make you sleep. You've been playing in too high a key--your +fiddle strings are too tight." + +Getting into that cool, soft bed was one of the pleasantest +experiences of Bonbright's life. He was almost instantly asleep--and +he still slept, even at the deliberate hour that saw his father enter +the office at the mills. + +Mr. Foote was disturbed. He had not seen his son since the boy flung +out of the office the morning before; had had no word of him. He had +expected Bonbright to come home in the evening and had waited for him +in the library to have a word with him. He had come to the conclusion +that it would be best to throw some sort of sop to Bonbright in the +way of apparent authority, of mock responsibility. It would occupy +the boy's mind, he thought, while in no way altering the conditions, +not affecting the end to be arrived at. Bonbright must be held.... +If it were necessary to administer an anaesthetic while the operation +of remaking him into a true Foote was performed, why, the anaesthetic +would be forthcoming. + +But Bonbright did not come, even with twelve strokes of the clock. +His father retired, but in no refreshing sleep.... On that day no +progress had been made with the Marquis Lafayette. That work required +a calm that Mr. Foote could not master. + +His first act after seating himself at his desk was to summon Rangar. + +"My son was not at home last night," he said. "I have not seen him +since yesterday morning. I hope you can give me an account of him." + +"Not home last night, Mr. Foote!" Manifestly Rangar was startled. He +had not been at ease before, for be had been unable to pick up any +trace of the boy this morning; had not seen him return home the night +before.... It might be that he had gone too far when he sent his +anonymous note to Dulac. Dulac had gone in pursuit, of that he had +made sure. But what had happened? Had the matter gone farther than +the mere thrashing he had hoped for?... He was frightened. + +"I directed you to keep him under your eye." + +"Your directions were followed, Mr. Foote, so far as was possible. I +know where he was yesterday, and where he went last night, but when a +young man is running around the country in an automobile with a girl, +it's mighty hard to keep at his heels. He was with that girl." + +"When?... What happened?" + +"He waited for her at the Lightener plant. She works there now. They +drove out the Avenue together--some place into the country. Mr. +Bonbright is a member of the Apple Lake Club, and I was sure they +were going there.... That's the last I know." + +"Telephone the Apple Lake Club. See if he was there and when he +left." + +Rangar retired to do so, and returned presently to report that +Bonbright and a young lady had dined there, but had not been seen +after they left the table. Nobody could say when they went away from +the club. + +"Call Malcolm Lightener--at his office. Once the boy stayed at his +house." + +Rangar made the call, and, not able to repress the malice that was in +him, went some steps beyond his directions. Mr. Lightener was on the +wire. + +"This is Rangar, Mr. Lightener--Bonbright Foote, Incorporated. Mr. +Foote wished me to inquire if you had seen Mr. Bonbright between six +o'clock last night and this morning." + +"No.... Why does he ask me? What's the matter?" + +"Mr. Foote says Bonbright stayed with you one night, and thought he +might have done so again. Mr. Foote is worried, sir. The young man +has--er--vanished, so to speak. He was seen last at your plant about +five o'clock. In his automobile, Mr. Lightener. He was waiting for a +young woman who works for you--a Miss Frazer, I understand. Used to +be his secretary. They drove away together, and he hasn't been seen +since.... Mr. Foote has feared some sort of--er--understanding +between them." + +"Huh!" grunted Lightener. "Don't know anything about it. Tell Foote +to look after his own son... if he knows how." Then the receiver +clicked. + +Lightener swung away from the telephone and scowled at the wall. "He +don't look it," he said, presently, "and I'm darned if SHE does.... +Huh!..." He pressed a button. "Send in Miss Frazer," he said to the +boy who answered the buzzer. + +In a moment Ruth stood in the door. He let her stand while he +scrutinized her briefly. She looked ill. Her eyes were dull and +marked by surrounding darkness. She had no color. He shook his head +Like a displeased lion. + +"Miss Frazer," he said, gruffly, "I make it a practice always to mind +my own business except when there's some reason for not minding it-- +which is frequent." + +"Yes, sir," she said, as he paused. + +"Yes, sir.... Yes, sir. What do YOU know about it? Come in and shut +the door. Come over here where I can look at you. What's the matter? +Ill? If you're sick what are you doing here? Home's the place for +you." + +"I'm not ill, Mr. Lightener." + +"Huh!... I liked your looks--like 'em yet. Like everybody's looks +who works here, or I wouldn't have 'em.... You're all right, I'll +bet a dollar--all RIGHT.... You know young Foote got you your job +here?" + +He saw the sudden intake of her breath as Bonbright's name was +mentioned. "Yes," she said, faintly. + +"What about him?... Know him well? LIKE HIM?" + +"I--I know him quite well, Mr. Lightener. Yes, I--like him." + +"Trust him?" + +She looked at him a moment before replying; then her chin lifted a +trifle and there came a glint into her eyes. "Absolutely," she said. + +"Um!... Good enough. So do I.... Enough to let him play around with +my daughter.... Has he anything to do with the way you look to- +day?... Not a fair question--yet. You needn't answer." + +"I shouldn't," she said, and he smiled at the asperity of her tone. + +"Mr. Bonbright Foote seems to be causing his family anxiety," he +said. "He's disappeared.... I guess they think you carried him off. +Did you go somewhere with him in his car last night?" + +"You have no right to question me, Mr. Lightener." + +"Don't I know it? I tell you I like you and I like him--and I think +his father's a stiff-backed, circumstantial, ancestor-ridden damn +fool.... Something's happened or Foote wouldn't be telephoning +around. He's got reason to be frightened, and good and frightened. +... A girl, especially a girl in your place, hasn't any business +being mixed up in any mess, much less with a young millionaire.... +That's why I'm not minding my own business. You work for me, don't +you--and ain't I responsible for you, sort of? Well, then? Were you +with Bonbright last night?" + +"Yes, sir." + +"Huh!... Something happened, didn't it?" "Nothing that--Mr. Foote had +anything to do with--" + +"But something happened. What?" + +"I can't tell you, Mr. Lightener." + +He shrugged his shoulders. + +"Where is he now?" + +"I don't know." + +"When did you see him last?" + +"A little after nine o'clock last night." + +"Where?" + +"Going toward home--I thought." + +"He didn't go there. Where else would he go?" + +"I don't--know." Her voice broke, her self-control was deserting her. + +"Hey!... Hold on there. No hysterics or anything. Won't have 'em. +Brace up." + +"Let me alone, then," she said, childishly. "Why can't you let me +alone?" + +"I--Confound it! I'm not deviling you. I'm trying to haul you out of +a muss. Quit it, will you?" She had sunk into a chair and covered her +face. He got up and stood over her, scowling. "Will you stop it? Hear +me? Stop it, I tell you'... What's the matter--anyhow? If Bonbright +Foote's done anything to you he hadn't ought to I'll skin him alive." + +The door opened and Hilda Lightener tripped into the room. "Hello, +dad!" she said. "Surprise.... I want to--" She stopped to look at +her father, and then at Ruth, crouched in her chair. "What's the +matter, dad?" Hilda asked. "You haven't been scaring this little +girl? If you have--" She paused threateningly. + +"Oh, the devil!... I'll get out. You see if you can make her stop it. +Cuddle her, or something. I've done a sweet job of it.... Miss +Frazer, this is my daughter. Er--I'm going away from here." And he +went, precipitately. + +There was a brief silence; then Hilda laid her hand on Ruth's head. +"What's dad been doing to you?" she asked. "Scare you? His bark's a +heap sight worse than his bite." + +"He--he's good," said Ruth, tearfully. "He was trying to be good to +me.... I'm just upset--that's all. I'll be--all right in a moment." +But she was not all right in a moment. Her sobs increased. The +strain, the anxiety, a sleepless night of suffering--and the struggle +she had undergone to find the answer to Bonbright's question--had +tried her to the depths of her soul. Now she gave quite away and, +unwillingly enough, sobbed and mumbled on Hilda Lightener's shoulder, +and clung to the larger girl pitifully, as a frightened baby clings +to its mother. + +Hilda's face grew sober, her eyes darkened, as, among Ruth's broken, +fragmentary, choking words, she heard the name of Bonbright Foote. +But her arm did not withdraw from about Ruth's shoulders, nor did the +sympathy in her kind voice lessen.... Most remarkable of all, she +did not give way to a very natural curiosity. She asked no question. + +After a time Ruth grew quieter, calmer. + +"I'll tell you what you need," said Hilda. "It's to get away from +here. My electric's downstairs. I'm going to take you away from +father. We'll drive around a bit, and then I'll run you home.... +You're all aquiver." + +She went out, closing the door after her. Her father was pacing +uneasily up and down the alley between the desks, and she motioned to +him. + +"She's better now. I'm going to take her home.... Dad, she was +muttering about Bonbright. What's he got to do with this?" + +"I don't know, honey. Nothing--nothing ROTTEN.... It isn't in him-- +nor HER." + +Hilda nodded. + +"Bonbright seems to have disappeared," her father said. + +"DISAPPEARED?" + +"His father's hunting for him, anyhow. Hasn't been home all night." + +"I don't blame him," said Hilda, with a flash in her eyes. "But +what's this girl got to do with it?" + +"I wish you'd find out. I was trying to--and that blew up the house." + +"I'll try nothing of the kind," she said. "Of course, if she WANTS to +tell me, and DOES tell me, I'll listen.... But I won't tell you. You +run your old factory and keep out of such things. You just MESS +them." + +"Yes, ma'am," he said, with mock submissiveness, "it looks like I do +just that." + +Hilda went back into the room, and presently she and Ruth emerged and +went out of the building. That day began their acquaintance, which +was to expand into a friendship very precious to both of them--and +one day to be the rod and staff that sustained Ruth and kept her from +despair. + + + + +CHAPTER XV + + +Hilda Lightener represented a new experience to Ruth. Never before +had she come into such close contact with a woman of a class she had +been taught to despise as useless and worse than useless. Even more +than they hated the rich man Ruth's class hated the rich man's wife +and daughter. Society women stood to them for definite transgressions +of the demands of human equality and fairness and integrity of life. +They were parasites, wasters, avoiding the responsibilities of +womanhood and motherhood. They flaunted their ease and their +luxuries. They were arrogant. When their lives touched the lives of +the poor it was with maddening condescension. In short, they were not +only no good, but were flagrantly bad. + +The zealots among whom Ruth's youth had lain knew no exceptions to +this judgment. All so-called society women were included. Now Ruth +was forced to make a revision.... All employers of labor had been +malevolent. Experience had proven to her that Bonbright Foote was not +malevolent, and that a more conspicuous, vastly more powerful figure +in the industrial world, Malcolm Lightener, was human, considerate, +respectful of right, full of unexpected disturbing virtues.... Ruth +was forced to the conclusion that there were good men and good women +where she had been taught to believe they did not exist.... It was a +pin-prick threatening the bubble of her fanaticism. + +She had not been able to withhold her liking from Hilda Lightener. +Hilda was strongly attracted by Ruth. King Copetua may occasionally +wed the beggar maid, but it is rare for his daughter or his sister to +desire a beggar maid's friendship. + +Hilda did not press Ruth for confidences, nor did Ruth bestow them. +But Hilda succeeded in making Ruth feel that she was trustworthy, +that she offered her friendship sincerely.... That she was an +individual to depend on if need came for dependence. They talked. At +first Hilda carried on a monologue. Gradually Ruth became more like +her sincere, calm self, and she met Hilda's advances without +reservation.... When Hilda left her at her home both girls carried +away a sense of possessing something new of value. + +"Don't you come back to the office to-day," Hilda told her. "I'll +settle dad." + +"Thank you," said Ruth. "I do need--rest. I've got to be alone to-- +think." That was the closest she came to opening her heart. + +She did have to think, though she had thought and reasoned and +suffered the torture of mental conflict through a nearly sleepless +night. She had told Bonbright to come on this day for her answer.... +She must have her answer ready. Also she must talk the thing over +with Dulac. That would be hard--doubly hard in the situation that +existed. + +Last night she had not spoken of it to him; had scarcely spoken to +him at all, as he had been morosely silent to her. She had been +shocked, frightened by his violence, yet she knew that his violence +had been honest violence, perpetrated because he believed her welfare +demanded it. She did not feel toward him the aversion that the +average girl might have felt for one who precipitated her into such a +scene.... She was accustomed to violence and to the atmosphere of +violence. + +When she and Dulac arrived at the Frazer cottage, he had helped her +to alight. Then he uttered a rude apology, but a sincere one-- +according to his lights. + +"I'm sorry I had to do it with you watching," he said. Then, curtly, +"Go to bed now." + +Clearly he suspected her of no wrongdoing, of no intention toward +future wrongdoing. She was a VICTIM. She was a pigeon fascinated by a +serpent. + +Now she went to her room, and remained there until the supper hour. + +When she and her mother and Dulac were seated at the table her mother +began a characteristic Jeremiad. "I hope you ain't coming down with a +spell of sickness. Seems like sickness in the family's about the only +thing I've been spared, though other things worse has been aplenty. +Here we are just in a sort of a breathing spell, and you begin to +look all peeked and home from work, with maybe losing your place, for +employers is hard without any consideration, and food so high and +all. I wasn't born to no ease, nor any chance of looking forward like +some women, though doing my duty at all times to the best of my +ability. And now you on the verge of a run of the fever, with nobody +can say how long in bed, and doctors and medicines and worry...." + +"I'm not going to be ill, mother," Ruth said. "Please don't worry +about me." + +"If a mother can't worry about her own daughter, then I'd like to +know what she can do," said Mrs. Frazer, with the air of one +suffering meekly a studied affront. + +Ruth turned to Dulac. "Before you go downtown," she said, "I want to +talk to you." + +Dulac had not hoped to escape a reckoning with Ruth, and now he +supposed she was demanding it. Well, as well now as later, if the +thing had to be. He was a trifle sulky about it; perhaps, now that +his blind rage had subsided, not wholly satisfied with himself and +his conduct. "All right," he said, and went silently on with his +meal. After a time he pushed back his chair. "I've got a meeting +downtown," he said to Ruth, paving the way for a quick escape. + +"Maybe what I have to say," she said, gravely, "will be as important +as your meeting," and she preceded him into the little parlor. + +His attitude was defensive; he expected to be called on for +explanations, to be required to soothe resentment; his mental +condition was more or less that of a schoolboy expecting a ragging. + +Ruth did not begin at once, but walked over to the window, and, +leaning her elbow against the frame, pressed her forehead against the +cool glass. She wanted to clear and make direct and coherent her +thoughts. She wanted to express well, leaving no ground for +misunderstanding of herself or her motives, what she had to say. Then +she turned, and began abruptly; began in a way that left Dulac +helplessly surprised, for it was not the attack he expected. + +"Mr. Foote asked me to marry him, last night," she said, and stopped. +"That is why he took me out to the lake.... I hadn't any idea of it +before. I didn't know... He was honest and sincere. At first I was +astonished. I tried to stop him. I was going to tell him I loved you +and that we were going to be married." She stopped again, and went on +with an effort. "Then something came to me--and it frightened me. All +the time he was talking to me I kept on thinking about it... and I +didn't want to think about it because of--you.... You know I want to +do something for the Cause--something big, something great! It's hard +for a woman to do such a thing--but I saw a chance. It was a hard +chance, a bitter chance, but it was there.... I'm not a doll. I +think I could be strong. He's just a boy, and I am strong enough to +influence him.... And I thought how his wife could help. Don't you +see? He will own thousands of laboring men--thousands and thousands. +If I married him I could do--what couldn't I do?--for them. I would +make him see through my eyes. I would make him UNDERSTAND. My work +would be to make him better conditions, to give those thousands of +men what they are entitled to, to give them all men like you and like +my father have taught me they ought to have.... I could do it. I +know. Think of it--thousands of men, and then--wives and children, +made happier, made contented, given their fair share--and by me!... +That's what I thought about--and so--so I didn't refuse him. I didn't +tell him about you.... I told him I'd give him my answer--later...." + +His face had changed from sullenness to relief, from relief to +astonishment, then to black anger. + +"Your answer," he said, passionately. "What answer could you give but +one? You're mine. You've promised me. That's the answer you'll give +him.... You THOUGHT. I know what you thought. You thought about his +money--about his millions. You thought what his wife would have, how +she would live. You thought about luxuries, about automobiles, about +jewels.... Laboring men!... Hell! He showed you the kingdoms of the +earth--and you wanted them. He offered to buy you--and you looked at +the price and it was enough to tempt you.... You'll give him no +answer. I'll give it to him, and it'll be the same kind of answer I +gave him last night.... But this time he won't get up so quick. This +time..." + +"Stop!... That's not true. You know it's not true.... I've promised +to marry you--and I've loved you. Yes, I've loved you.... I'm glad +of that. It makes the sacrifice real. It makes all the more I have to +give.... Father gave his life. You're giving your life and your +strength and your abilities.... I want to give, too, and so I'm +glad, glad that I love you, and that I can give that.... If I didn't +love you, if I did care for Mr. Foote, it would be different. I would +be afraid I was marrying him because of what he is and what he has. +... But I am giving up more than he can ever return to me with all +his money.... Money can't buy love. It can't give back to me that +happiness I would have known with you, working for you, suffering +with you, helping you. It's my chance.... You must see. You must +believe the truth. I couldn't bear it if you didn't--if you didn't +see that I am throwing away my happiness and giving myself--just for +the Cause. That I am giving all of myself--not to a quick, merciful +death. That wouldn't be hard.... But to years of misery, to a +lifetime of suffering. Knowing I love you, I will have to go to him, +and be his wife, and pretend--pretend--day after day, year after +year, that I love him.... I'll have to deceive him. I'll have to +hold his love and make it stronger, and I'll--I'll come to loathe +him. Does that sound easy? Could money buy that? Look into your heart +and see...." + +He strode to her, and his hands fell heavily on her shoulders, his +black, blazing eyes burned into hers. + +"You love me--you haven't lied to me?" he demanded, hoarsely. + +"I love you." + +"Then, by God! you're mine, and I'll have you. He sha'n't buy you +away if I have to kill him. You're mine, do you hear?--MINE!" + +"Who do you belong to?" she asked. "If I demanded that you give up +your work, abandon the Cause, would you do it for me?" + +"No." + +"You belong to the Cause--not to me.... I belong to the Cause, too. +... Body and soul I belong to it. What am I to you but a girl, an +incident? Your duty lies toward all those men. Your work is to help +them.... Then you should give me willingly; if I hesitate you should +try to force me to do this thing-for it will help. What other thing +could do what it will do? Think! THINK!... THINK!" + +"You're mine.... He has everything else. His kind take everything +else from us. Now they want our wives. They sha'n't have them.... He +sha'n't have them.... He sha'n't have you." + +"It is for me to say," she replied, gently. "I'm so sorry--so sorry-- +if it hurts you. I'm sorry any part of the suffering and sorrow must +fall on you. If I could only bear it alone! If I can help, it's my +right to help, and to give.... Don't make it harder. Oh, don't make +it harder!" + +He flung her from him roughly. "You're like all of them.... Wealth +dazzles you. You fear poverty.... Softness, luxuries--you all--you +women--are willing to sell your souls for them." + +"Did my mother sell her soul for luxuries? If she did, where are +they? Did your mother sell her soul for them?... Have the wives of +all the men who have worked and suffered and been trampled on for the +Cause sold their souls?... You're bitter. I--I am sorry--so sorry. If +you care for me as I do for you--I--I know how bitterly hard it will +be--to--give me up--to see me his wife...." + +"I'll never see that. You can throw me over, but you'll never marry +him." + +"You're big--you're big enough to see this as I see it, and big +enough to let me do it.... You will be when--the surprise and the +first hurt of it have gone. It's asking just one more thing of you-- +when you've willingly given so much.... But it's I who do the harder +giving. In a few months, in a year, you will have forgotten me.... I +can never forget you. Every day and every hour I'll be reminded of +you. I'll be thinking of you.... When I greet HIM it will be YOU I'm +greeting.... When I am pretending to--to care for him, it will be +YOU I am loving. The thought of that, and the knowledge of what I am +doing for those poor men--will be all the happiness I shall have... +will give me courage to live on and to GO on.... You believe me, +don't you, dear? You must, you must believe me!" + +He approached her again. "Look at me!... Look at me," he demanded, +and she gave her eyes to his. They were pure eyes, the eyes of an +enthusiast, the eyes of a martyr. He could not misread them, even in +his passion he could not doubt them.... The elevation of her soul +shone through them. Constancy, steadfastness, courage, determination, +sureness, and loftiness of purpose were written there.... He turned +away, his head sinking upon his breast, and when he spoke the +passion, the rancor, the bitterness, were gone from his voice. It was +lower, quivering, almost gentle. + +"You sha'n't.... It isn't necessary. It isn't required of you." + +"If it is possible, then it is required of me," she said. + +"No.... No...." He sank into a chair and covered his face, and she +could hear the hissing of his breath as he fought for self-control. + +"If it were you," she said. "If you could bring about the things I +can--the good for so many--would you hesitate? Is there anything you +wouldn't do to give THEM what I can give?... You know there's not. +You know you could withhold no sacrifice.... Then don't make this +one harder for me. Don't stand in my way." + +"I HATE him," Dulac said, in a tense whisper. "If you--married him +and I should meet him--I couldn't keep my hands off him.... The +thought of YOU--of HIM--I'd KILL him...." + +"You wouldn't," she said. "You'd think of ME--and you'd remember that +I love you--and that I have given you up--and all the rest, so I +could be his wife--and rule him.... And you wouldn't make it all +futile by killing him.... Then I'd be helpless. I've got to have him +to--to do the rest." + +She went to him, and stroked his black, waving hair--so gently. + +"Go now, my dear," she said. "You've got to rise to this with me. +You've got to sustain me.... Go now.... My mind is made up. I see +my way...." Her voice trembled pitifully. "Oh, I see my way--and it +is hard, HARD...." + +"No," he cried, struggling to his feet. + +"Yes," she said, softly. "Good-by.... This is our good-by. I--oh, my +dear, don't forget--never forget--Oh, go, GO!" + +In that moment it seemed to her that her heart was bursting for him, +that she loved him to the very roots of her soul. She was sure at +last, very sure. She was certain she was not blinded by glamour, not +fascinated by the man and his part in the world.... If there had +been, in a secret recess of her heart, a shadow of uncertainty, it +was gone in this moment. + +"Good-by," she said. + +He arose and walked toward the door. He did not look at her. His hand +was on the knob, and the door was opening, yet he did not turn or +look.... "Good-by.... Good-by," she sobbed--and he was GONE... + +She was alone, and through all the rest of her years she must be +alone. She had mounted the altar, a sacrifice, a willing sacrifice, +but never till this minute had she experienced the full horror and +bitterness and woe that were required of her.... She was ALONE. + +The world has seen many minor passions in the Garden. It sees and +passes on, embodying none of them in deathless epic as His passion +was embodied.... Men and women have cried out to listening Heaven +that the cup might pass from their lips, and it has not been +permitted to pass, as His was not permitted to pass. In the souls of +men and of women is something of the divine, something high and +marvelous--a gift from Heaven to hold the human race above the mire +which threatens to engulf it.... Every day it asserts itself +somewhere; in sacrifice, in devotion, in simple courage, in lofty +renunciation. It is common; wonderfully, beautifully common... yet +there are men who do not see it, or, seeing, do not comprehend, and +so despair of humanity.... Ruth, crouching on the floor of her +little parlor, might have numbered countless brothers and sisters, +had she known.... She was uplifting man, not because of the thing +she might accomplish, but because she was willing to seek its +accomplishment.... + +Her eyes were dry. She could not weep. She could only crouch there +and peer into the blackness of the gulf that lay at her feet.... +Then the doorbell rang, and she started. Eyes wide with tragedy, she +looked toward the door, for she knew that there stood Bonbright +Foote, come for his answer.... + + + + +CHAPTER XVI + + +Bonbright had disobeyed the physician's orders to stay in bed all +day, but when he arose he discovered that there are times when even a +restless and impatient young man is more comfortable with his head on +a pillow. So until evening he occupied a lounge with what patience he +could muster. So it was that Rangar had no news of him during the day +and was unable to relieve his father's increasing anxiety. Mr. Foote +was not anxious now, but frightened; frightened as any potentate +might be who perceived that the succession was threatened, that +extinction impended over his line. + +Bonbright scarcely tasted the food that was brought him on a tray at +six o'clock. He was afire with eagerness, for the hour was almost +there when he could go to Ruth for her answer. He arose, somewhat +dizzily, and demanded his hat, which was given him with protests. It +was still too early to make his call, but he could not stay away from +the neighborhood, so he took a taxicab to Ruth's corner, and there +alighted. For half an hour he paced slowly up and down, eying the +house, picturing in his mind Ruth in the act of accepting him or Ruth +in the act of refusing him. One moment hope flashed high; the next it +was quenched by doubt.... He saw Dulac leave the house; waited +another half hour, and then rang the doorbell. + +Mrs. Frazer opened the door. + +"Evening, Mr. Foote," she said, without enthusiasm, for she had not +approved of this young man's calls upon her daughter. + +"Miss Frazer is expecting me," he said, diffidently, for he was +sensitive to her antagonism. + +"In the parlor," said she, "and no help with the dishes, which is to +be expected at her age, with first one young man and then another, +which, if she gets any pleasure out of it, I'm not one to deny her, +though not consulted. If I was starting over again I'd wish it was a +son to be traipsing after some other woman's daughter and not a +daughter to have other women's sons traipsing after.... That door, +Mr. Foote. Go right in." + +Bonbright entered apprehensively, as one might enter a court room +where a jury was about to rise and declare its verdict of guilty or +not guilty. He closed the door after him mechanically. + +"Ruth..." he said. + +Her face, marked with tears, not untouched by suffering, startled +him. "Are you--ill?" he said. + +"Just--just tired" she said. + +"Shall I go?... Shall I come again to-morrow?" + +"No." She was aware of his concern, of the self-effacing +thoughtfulness of his offer. He was a good boy, decent and kind. He +deserved better than he was getting.... She bit her lips and vowed +that, giving no love, she would make him happy. She must make him +happy. + +"You know why I've come, Ruth," he said. "It has seemed a long time +to wait--since last night. You know why I've come?" + +"Yes." + +"You have--thought about me?" + +"Yes." + +He stepped forward eagerly. "You look so unhappy, so tired. It hasn't +been worrying you like this? I couldn't bear to think it had.... I-- +I don't want you ever worried or tired, but always--glad.... I've +been walking up and down outside for an hour. Couldn't stay away.... +Ruth, you haven't been out of my mind since last night--since +yesterday morning. I've had time to think about you.... I'm +beginning to realize how much you mean to me. I'll never realize it +fully--but it will come to me more every day, and every day I shall +love you more than I did the day before--if your answer can be yes. +..." He turned away his head and said, "I'm afraid to ask...." + +"I will marry you," she said, in a dead voice. She felt cold, numb. +Her body seemed without sensation, but her mind was sharply clear. +She wanted to scream, but she held herself. + +His face showed glad, relieved surprise. The shine of his eyes +accused her.... She was making capital of his love--for a great and +worthy purpose--but none the less making capital of it. She was sorry +for him, bitterly sorry for herself. He came forward eagerly, with +arms outstretched to receive her, but she could not endure that--now. +She could not endure his touch, his caress. + +"Not now.... Not yet," she said, holding up her hand as though to +ward him off. "You mustn't." + +His face fell and he stopped short. He was hurt--surprised. He did +not understand, did not know what to make of her attitude. + +"Wait," she said, pitifully. "Oh, be patient with me.... I will +marry you. I will be a good--a faithful wife to you.... But you must +be patient with me. Let me have time.... Last night--and all to-day- +have been--hard.... I'm not myself. Can't you see?..." + +"Don't you love me?" he asked. + +"I--I've said I would marry you," she replied. Then she could +restrain herself no longer. "But let it be soon--soon," she cried, +and throwing herself on the sofa she burst into tears. + +Bonbright did not know what to do. He had never seen a woman cry so +before.... Did girls always act this way when they became engaged? +Was it the usual thing, or was something wrong with Ruth? He stood +by, dumbly waiting, unhappy when he knew he should be happy; troubled +when he knew there should be no cloud in his sky; vaguely +apprehensive when he knew he should be looking into the future with +eyes confident of finding only happiness there. + +He wanted to pick her up and comfort her in his arms. He could do it, +he could hold her close and safe, for she was so small. But he dared +not touch her. She had forbidden it; her manner had forbidden it more +forcefully than her words. He came closer, and his hand hovered over +her hair, her hair that he would have loved to press with his lips- +he, he did not dare. + +"Ruth," he said.... "Ruth!" + +Suddenly she sat up and faced him; forced herself to speak; compelled +herself to rise to this thing that she had done and must see through. + +"I'm--ashamed," she said, irrepressible sobs interrupting her. "It's +silly, isn't it--but--but it's hard to KNOW. It's for so long--so +LONG!" + +"Yes," he said, "that's the best part of it.... I shall have you +always." + +Always. He should have her always! It was no sentence for a month or +a year, but for life. She was tying herself to this boy until death +should free her.... She looked at him, and thanked God that he was +as he was, young, decent, clean, capable of loving her and cherishing +her.... For her sake she was glad it was he, but his very attributes +accused her. She was accepting these beautiful gifts and was giving +in return spurious wares. For love she would give pretense of love. +... Yet if he had been other than he was, if he had been old, seeking +her youth as some men might seek it, steeped in experience to satiety +as some rich man might have been, she knew she could not have gone +through with it. To such a man she could not have given herself--even +for the Cause.... Bonbright made his own duping a possibility. + +"I--I sha'n't act this way again," she said, trying to smile. "You +needn't be afraid.... It's just nerves." + +"Poor kid!" he said, softly, but even yet he dared not touch her. + +"You want me? You're very, very sure you want me? How do you know? I +may not be what you think I am. Maybe I'm different. Are you sure, +Bonbright?" + +"It's the only thing in the world I am sure of," he said. + +"And you'll be good to me?... You'll be patient with me, and gentle? +Oh, I needn't ask. I know you will. I know you're good...." + +"I love you," was his reply, and she deemed it a sufficient answer. + +"Then," she said, "let's not wait. There's no need to wait, is there? +Can't it be right away?" + +His face grew radiant. "You mean it, Ruth?" + +"Yes," she said. + +"A month?" + +"Sooner." + +"A week?" + +"Sooner.... Sooner." + +"To-morrow? You couldn't?... You don't mean--TO-MORROW?" + +She nodded, for she was unable to speak + +"Sweetheart," he cried, and again held out his arms. + +She shook her head and drew back. "It's been so--so quick," she said. +"And to-morrow comes so soon.... Not till then. I'll be your wife +then--your WIFE." + +"To-morrow morning? I will come to-morrow morning? Can it be then?" + +"Yes." + +"I--I will see to everything. We'll be married, and then we will go +away--somewhere. Where would you like to go, Ruth?" + +"Anywhere.... I don't care. Anywhere." + +"It 'll be my secret," he said, in his young blindness. "We'll start +out--and you won't know where we're going. I sha'n't tell you. I'll +pick out the best place in the world, if I can find it, and you won't +know where we're going till we get there.... Won't that be bully?... +I hate to go now, dear, but you're all out of sorts--and I'll have a +heap of things to do--to get ready. So will you." He stopped and +looked at her pleadingly, but she could not give him what his eyes +asked; she could not give him her lips to-night.... He waited a +moment, then, very gently, he took her hand and touched it with his +lips. + +"I'm patient," he said, softly. "You see how patient I am.... I can +wait... when waiting will bring me so much.... At twelve o'clock? +That's the swell hour," he laughed. "Shall I drag along a bishop or +will an ordinary minister do?" + +She tried to smile in response. + +"Good night, dear," he said, and raised her hand again to his lips. + +"Good night." + +"Is that all?" + +"All." + +"No--trimmings? You might say good night to the groceryman that way." + +"Good night--dear," she said, obediently. + +"It's true. I'm not dreaming it. Noon TO-MORROW?" + +"Noon to-morrow," she repeated. + +He walked to the door, stopped, turned, hesitated as if to come back. +Then he smiled at her boyishly, happily, wagged his head gayly, as +though admonishing himself to be about his business and to stop +philandering, and went out.... He did not see her drag herself to +the sofa wearily; he did not see her sink upon it and bury her face +again in the cushions; he did not hear the sobs that wrenched and +shook her.... He would then have understood that this was not the +usual way for a girl to enter her engagement. He would have +understood that something was wrong, very wrong. + +After waiting a long time for her daughter to come out, Mrs. Frazer +opened the door determinedly and went in. Ruth sat up and, wiping her +eyes on a tear-soggy handkerchief, said: + +"I'm going to marry Bonbright Foote to-morrow noon mother." + +Mrs. Frazer sat down very suddenly in a chair which was fortunately +at hand, and stared at her daughter. + +"Of all things..." she said, weakly. + +Bonbright was on the way to make a similar announcement to his +parents. It was a task he did not approach with pleasure; indeed, he +did not look forward with pleasure to any sort of meeting with his +father. In his heart he had declared his independence. He had broken +away from Bonbright Foote, Incorporated, had clambered out of the +family groove--had determined to be himself and to maintain his +individuality at any cost.... Ruth would make it easier for him. To +marry Ruth was the first great step toward independence and the +throwing off of the yoke of the Foote tradition. + +As he walked home he planned out what he would say and what he would +do with respect to his position in the family. He could not break +away from the thing wholly. He could not step out of Bonbright Foote, +Incorporated, as one steps out of an old coat, and think no more of +it. No.... But he would demand concessions. He would insist upon +being something in the business, something real. He would no longer +be an office boy, a rubber stamp, an automaton, to do thus and to do +so when his father pressed the requisite buttons.... Oh, he would go +back to the office, but it would be to a very different office and to +function in a very different manner. + +The family ghosts had been dissatisfied with him. Well, they could go +hang. Using his father as the working tool, they had sought to remake +him according to their pattern. He would show them. There would be a +row, but he was buoyed up for whatever might happen by what had just +happened.... The girl he loved had promised to marry him--and to- +morrow. With a consciousness of that he was ready for anything. + +He did not realize how strongly he was gripped by the teaching that +had been his from his cradle; he did not realize how the Foote +tradition was an integral part of him, as his arm or his skin. It +would not be so easy to escape. Nor, perhaps, would his father be so +ready to make concessions. He thought of that. But he banished it +from his mind. When his father saw how determined he was the +concessions would follow. They would have to follow. He did not ask +himself what would happen if they did not follow. + +Of course his father and mother would resent Ruth. Because Bonbright +loved her so truly he was unable to see how anybody could resent her +very much. He was blinded by young happiness. Optimism had been born +in him in a twinkling, and set aside a knowledge of his parents and +their habits of thought and life that should have warned him. He +might have known that his father could have overlooked anything but +this--the debasing of the Foote blood by mingling with it a plebeian, +boarding-house strain; he might have comprehended that his mother, +Mrs. Bonbright Foote VI, no less, could have excused crime, could +have winked at depravity, but could never tolerate a daughter-in-law +of such origin; would never acknowledge or receive her. + +As a last resort, to save Bonbright Foote, Incorporated, his father +might even submit to Bonbright's wife; his mother did not bow so low +before that god; her particular deity was a social deity. If +Bonbright's argosy did not wreck against the reef of his father, it +never could weather the hidden rock of his mother's class +consciousness. + +Bonbright went along, whistling boyishly. He was worried, but not so +worried but that he could find room also to be very happy. Everything +would come out all right.... Young folks are prone to trust +implicitly to the goodness of the future. The future will take care +of troubles, will solve difficulties, will always bring around a +happy ending. He was not old enough or experienced enough to know +that the future bothers with nobody's desires, but goes on turning +out each day's work with calm detachment, continues to move its +endless film of tomorrow's events to the edge of its kingdom and to +give them life on the screen of to-day. It does not change or retouch +the film, but gives it to to-day as it is, relentlessly, without pity +and without satisfaction. + +Bonbright saw the future as a benignant soul; he did not realize it +is a nonsentient machine. + + + + +CHAPTER XVII + + +Bonbright stopped in the library door, for he saw there not only his +father, whom he had expected to see, but his mother also. He had not +foreseen this. It made the thing harder to tell, for he realized in +an instant how his mother would receive the news. He wished he had +been less abrupt, but here he was and there could be no drawing back +now. His mother was first to see him. + +"Bonbright..." she said, rising. + +He walked to her and kissed her, not speaking. + +"Where have you been? Your father and I have been terribly worried. +Why did you stay away like this, without giving us any word?" + +"I'm sorry if I've worried you, mother," he said, but found himself +dumb when he tried to offer an explanation of his absence. + +"You have worried us," said his father, sharply. "You had no business +to do such a thing. How were we to know something hadn't happened to +you--with the strike going on?" + +"It was very inconsiderate," said his mother. + +There fell a silence awkward for Bonbright. His parents were +expecting some explanation. He had come to give that explanation, but +his mother's presence complicated the situation, made it more +difficult. There had never been that close confidence between Mrs. +Foote and Bonbright which should exist between mother and son. He had +never before given much thought to his relations with her; had taken +them as a matter of course. He had not given to her that love which +he had seen manifested by other boys for their mothers, and which +puzzled him. She had never seemed to expect it of him. He had been +accustomed to treat her with grave respect and deference, for she was +the sort of person who seems to require and to be able to exact +deference. She was a very busy woman, busy with extra-family +concerns. Servants had carried on the affairs of the household. +Nurses, governesses, and such kittle-cattle had given to Bonbright +their sort of substitute for mother care. Not that Mrs. Foote had +neglected her son--as neglect is understood by many women of her +class. She had seen to it rigidly that his nurses and tutors were +efficient. She had seen to it that he was instructed as she desired, +and his father desired, him to be instructed. She had not neglected +him in a material sense, but on that highest and sweetest sense of +pouring out her affection on him in childhood, of giving him her +companionship, of making her love compel his love--there she had been +neglectful.... But she was not a demonstrative woman. Even when he +was a baby she could not cuddle him and wonder at him and regard him +as the most wonderful thing in creation.... She had never held him +to her breast as God and nature meant mothers to hold their babies. A +mercenary breast had nourished him. + +So he grew up to admire her, perhaps; surely to stand in some awe of +her. She was his mother, and he felt vaguely that the relationship +demanded some affection from him. He had fancied that he was giving +her affection, but he was doing nothing of the sort.... His childish +troubles had been confided to servants. His babyish woes had been +comforted by servants. What genuine love he had been able to give had +been given to servants. She had not been the companion of his +babyhood as his father had failed to be the companion of his youth. +... So far as the finer, the sweeter affairs of parenthood went, +Bonbright had been, and was, an orphan.... + +"Have you nothing to say?" his father demanded, and, when Bonbright +made no reply, continued: "Your mother and I have been unable to +understand your conduct. Even in our alarm we have been discussing +your action and your attitude. It is not one we expected from a son +of ours.... You have not filled our hopes and expectations. I, +especially, have been dissatisfied with you ever since you left +college. You have not behaved like a Foote.... You have made more +trouble for me in these few months than I made for my father in my +life.... And yesterday--I would be justified in taking extreme +measures with you. Such an outburst! You were disrespectful and +impertinent. You were positively REBELLIOUS. If I had not more +important things to consider than my own feelings you should have +felt, more vigorously than you shall, my displeasure. You dared to +speak to me yesterday in a manner that would warrant me in setting +you wholly adrift until you came to your senses.... But I shall not +do that. Family considerations demand your presence in our offices. +You are to take my place and to carry on our line.... This hasn't +seemed to impress you. You have been childishly selfish. You have +thought only of yourself--of that thing you fancy is your +individuality. Rubbish! You're a Foote--and a Foote owes a duty to +himself and his family that should outweigh any personal desires.... +I don't understand you, my son. What more can you want than you have +and will have? Wealth, position, family? Yet for months you have been +sullen and restless-and then openly rebellious.... And worse, you +have been compromising yourself with a girl not of your class...." + +"I could not believe my ears," said Mrs. Foote, coldly. + +"However," said his father, "I shall overlook what has passed." Now +came the sop he had planned to throw to Bonbright. + +"You have been in the office long enough to learn something of the +business, so I shall give you work of greater interest and +responsibility.... You say, ridiculously enough, that you have been +a rubber stamp. Common sense should have told you you were competent +to carry no great responsibilities at first.... But you shall take +over a part of my burden now.... However, one thing must come first. +Before we go any farther, your mother and I must have your promise +that you will discontinue whatever relations you have with this +boarding-house keeper's daughter, this companion of anarchists and +disturbers." + +"I have insisted upon THAT," said Mrs. Foote. "I will not tolerate +such an affair." + +"There is no AFFAIR," said Bonbright, finding his voice. His young +eyes began to glow angrily. "What right have you to suppose such a +thing--just because Miss Frazer happens to be a stenographer and +because her mother keeps a boarder! Father insulted her yesterday. +That caused the trouble. I couldn't let it pass, even from him. I +can't let it pass from you, mother." + +"Oh, undoubtedly she's worthy enough," said Mr. Foote, who had +exchanged a glance with his wife during Bonbright's outburst, as much +as to say, "There is a serious danger here." + +"Worthy enough!" said Bonbright, anger now burning with white heat. + +"But," said his father, "worthy or not worthy, we cannot have our +son's name linked in any way with a person of her class. It must +stop, and stop at once." + +"That you must understand distinctly," said Mrs. Foote. + +"Stop!" said Bonbright, hoarsely. "It sha'n't stop, now or ever. +That's what I came home to tell you.... I'm not a dumb beast, to be +driven where you want to drive me. I'm a human being. I have a right +to make my own friends and to live my own life.... I have a right to +love where I want to--and to marry the girl I love.... You tried to +pick out a wife for me.... Well, I've picked out my own. Whether you +approve or not doesn't change it. Nobody, nothing can change it.... +I love Ruth Frazer and I'm going to marry her. That's what I came +home to tell you." + +"What?" said his father, in a tone of one who listens to blasphemy. + +Bonbright did not waver. He was strong enough now, strong in his +anger and in his love. "I am going to marry Ruth Frazer," he +repeated. + +"Nonsense!" said his mother. + +"It is not nonsense, mother. I am a man. I have found the girl I love +and will always love. I intend to marry her. Where is there nonsense +in that?" + +"Do you fancy I shall permit such a thing? Do you imagine for an +instant that I shall permit you to give me a daughter-in-law out of a +cheap boarding house? Do you think I shall submit to an affront like +that?... Why, I should be the laughingstock of the city." + +"The city finds queer things to laugh at," said Bonbright. + +"My son--" began Mr. Foote; but his wife silenced him. She had taken +command of the family ship. From this moment in this matter Bonbright +Foote VI did not figure. This was her affair. It touched her in a +vital spot. It threatened her with ridicule; it threatened to affect +that most precious of her possessions--the deference of the social +world. She knew how to protect herself, and would attend to the +matter without assistance. + +"You will never see that girl again," she said, as though the saying +of it concluded the episode. + +Bonbright was silent. + +"You will promise me NOW that this disgraceful business is ended. +NOW.... I am waiting." + +"Mother," said Bonbright, "you have no right to ask such a thing. +Even if I didn't love Ruth, I have pledged my word to her..." + +Mrs. Foote uttered an exclamation indicative of her disgust. + +"Pledged your word!... You're a silly boy, and this girl has schemed +to catch you and has caught you.... You don't flatter yourself that +she cares for you beyond your money and your position.... Those are +the things she had her eye on. Those are what she is trading herself +for.... It's scandalous. What does your pledged word count for in a +case like this?... Your pledged word to a scheming, plotting, +mercenary little wretch!" + +"Mother," said Bonbright, in a strained, tense voice, "I don't want +to speak to you harshly. I don't want to say anything sharp or unkind +to you--but you mustn't repeat that.... You mustn't speak like that +about Ruth." + +"I shall speak about her as I choose..." + +"Georgia!..." said Mr. Foote, warningly. + +"If you please, Bonbright." She put him back in his place. "_I_ will +settle this matter with our son--NOW." + +"It is settled, mother," said Bonbright. + +"Suppose you should be insane enough to marry her," said Mrs. Foote. +"Do you suppose I should tolerate her? Do you suppose I should admit +her to this house? Do you suppose your friends--people of your own +class--would receive her--or you?" + +"Do you mean, mother," said Bonbright, his voice curiously quiet and +calm, "that you would not receive my wife here?" + +"Exactly that. And I should make it my business to see that she was +received nowhere else.... And what would become of you? Everyone +would drop you. Your wife could never take your position, so you +would have to descend to her level. Society would have none of you." + +"I fancy," said Bonbright, "that we could face even that--and live." + +"More than that. I know I am speaking for your father when I say it. +If you persist in this we shall wash our hands of you utterly. You +shall be as if you were dead.... Think a moment what that means. You +will not have a penny. We shall not give you one penny. You have +never worked. And you would find yourself out in the world with a +wife to support and no means of supporting her. How long do you +suppose she would stay with you?... The moment she found she couldn't +get what she had schemed for, you would see the last of her.... +Think of all that." + +"I've thought of all that--except that Ruth would care for my money. +... Yesterday I left the office determined never to go into it again. +I made up my mind to look for a job--any job--that would give me a +living--and freedom from what Bonbright Foote, Incorporated, means to +me. I was ready to do that without Ruth.... But the family has some +claims to me. I could see that. So I came back. I was going to tell +father I would go ahead and do my best.... But not because I wanted +to, nor because I was afraid." + +"You see," his mother said, bitingly, "it lasted a whole day with +you." + +"Mother!" + +Bonbright turned to his father. "I am going to marry Ruth. That +cannot be changed. Nothing can alter it.... I am ready to come back +to the office--and be Bonbright Foote VII... and you can't guess what +that means. But I'll do it--because it seems to be the thing I ought +to do.... I'll come back if--and only if--you and mother change your +minds about Ruth.... She will be my wife as much as mother is your +wife, and you must treat her so. She must have your respect. You must +receive her as you would receive me... as you would have been glad to +receive Hilda Lightener. If you refuse--I'm through with you. I mean +it.... You have demanded a promise of me. Now you must give me your +promise--to act to Ruth as you should act toward my wife.... Unless +you do the office and the family have seen the last of me." He did +not speak with heat or in excitement, but very gravely, very +determinedly. His father saw the determination, and wavered. + +"Georgia," he said, again. + +"No," said Mrs. Foote. + +"The Family--the business." said Mr. Foote, uncertainly. + +"I'd see the business ended and the Family extinct before I would +tolerate that girl.... If Bonbright marries her he does it knowing +how I feel and how I shall act. She shall never step a foot in this +house while I live--nor afterward, if I can prevent it. Nor shall +Bonbright." + +"Is that final, mother?... Are you sure it is your final decision?" + +"Absolutely," she said, her voice cold as steel. + +"Very well," said Bonbright, and, turning, he walked steadily toward +the door. + +"Where are you going?" his father said, taking an anxious step after +his son. + +"I don't know," said Bonbright. "But I'm not coming back." + +He passed through the door and disappeared, but his mother did not +call after him, did not relent and follow her only son to bring him +back. Her face was set, her lips a thin, white line. + +"Let him go," she said. "He'll come back when he's eaten enough +husks." + +"He's GOT to come back.... We've got to stop this marriage. He's our +only son, Georgia--he's necessary to the Family. HIS son is +necessary." + +"And hers?" she asked, with bitter irony. + +"Better hers than none," said Mr. Foote. + +"You would give in.... Oh, I know you would. You haven't a thought +outside of Family. I wasn't born in your family, remember. I married +into it. I have my own rights in this matter, and, Family or no +Family, Bonbright, that girl shall never be received where I am +received.... NEVER." + +Mr. Foote walked to the window and looked out. He saw his son's tall +form pass down the walk and out into the street--going he did not +know where; to return he did not know when. He felt an ache in his +heart such as he had never felt before. He felt a yearning after his +son such as he had never known. In that moment of loss he perceived +that Bonbright was something more to him than Bonbright Foote VII--he +was flesh of his flesh and blood of his blood. The stifled, cramped, +almost eliminated human father that remained in him cried out after +his son.... + + + + +CHAPTER XVIII + + +As Bonbright walked away from his father's house he came into +possession for the first time of the word RESPONSIBILITY. It was +defined for him as no dictionary could define it. Every young man +meets a day when responsibility becomes to him something more than a +combination of letters, and when it comes he can never be the same +again. It marks definitely the arrival of manhood, the dropping +behind of youth. He can never look upon life through the same eyes. +Forever, now, he must peer round and beyond each pleasure to see what +burden it entails and conceals. He must weigh each act with reference +to the RESPONSIBILITY that rests upon him. Hitherto he had been +swimming in life's pleasant, safe, shaded pools; now he finds himself +struggling in the great river, tossed by currents, twirled by eddies, +and with no bottom upon which to rest his feet. Forever now it will +be swim--or sink.... + +To-morrow Bonbright was to undertake the responsibilities of family +headship and provider; to-night he had sundered himself from his +means of support. He was jobless. He belonged to the unemployed.... +In the office he had heard without concern of this man or that man +being discharged. Now he knew how those men felt and what they faced. + +Realization of his condition threw him into panic. In his panic he +allowed his feet to carry him to the man whose help had come readily +and willingly in another moment of need--to Malcolm Lightener. + +The hour was still early. Lights shone in the Lightener home and +Bonbright approached the door. Mr. Lightener was in and would see him +in the office. It was characteristic of Lightener that the room in +the house which was peculiarly his own was called by him his office, +not his den, not the library.... There were two interests in +Lightener's life--his family and his business, and he stirred them +together in a quaintly granite sort of way. + +For the second time that evening Bonbright stood hesitating in a +doorway. + +"Well, young fellow?" said Lightener. Then seeing the boy's +hesitation: "Come in. Come in. What's happened NOW?" + +"Mr. Lightener," said Bonbright, "I want a job. I've got to have a +job." + +"Um!... Job! What's the matter with the job you've got?" + +"I haven't any job.... I--I'm through with Bonbright Foote, +Incorporated--forever." + +"That's a darn long time. Sit down. Waiting for it to pass will be +easier that way.... Now spit it out." He was studying the boy with +his bright gray eyes, wondering if this was the row he had been +expecting. He more than half hoped, as he would have expressed it, +"that the kid had got his back up." Bonbright's face, his bearing, +made Lightener believe his back WAS up. + +"I've got to have a job--" + +"You said that once. Why?" + +"I'm going to be married to-morrow--" + +"What?" + +"I'm going to be married to-morrow--and I've got to support my wife-- +decently..." + +"It's that little Frazer girl who was crying all over my office to- +day," said Lightener, deducing the main fact with characteristic +shrewdness. "And your father wouldn't have it--and threw you out...or +did the thing that stands to him for throwing out?" + +"I got out. I had gotten out before. Yesterday morning.... Somebody +told him I'd been going to see Ruth--and he was nasty about it. +Called it a liaison....I--I BURNED UP and left the office. I haven't +been back." + +"That accounts for his calling me up--looking for you. You had him +worried." + +"Then I got to thinking," said Bonbright, ignoring the interruption. +"I was going back because it seemed as if I HAD to go back. You +understand? As if there was something that compelled me to stick by +the Family...." + +"How long have you been going to marry this girl?" + +"She said she would marry me to-night." + +"Engaged to-night--and you're going to marry to-morrow?" + +"Yes....And I went home to tell father. Mother was there--" + +Lightener sucked in his breath. He could appreciate what Bonbright's +mother's presence would contribute to the episode. + +"--and she was worse than father. She--it was ROTTEN, Mr. Lightener-- +ROTTEN. She said she'd never receive Ruth as her daughter, and that +she'd see she was never received by anybody else, and she--she FORCED +father to back her up....There wasn't anything for me to do but get +out....I didn't begin to wonder how I was going to support Ruth till +it was all over with." + +"That's the time folks generally begin to wonder." + +"So I came right here--because you CAN give me a job if you will--and +I've got to have one to-night. I've got to know to-night how I'm +going to get food and a place to live for Ruth." + +"Um!...We'll come to that." He got up and went to the door. From +thence he shouted--the word is used advisedly--for his wife and +daughter. "Mamma.... Hilda. Come here right off." He had decided +that Bonbright's affairs stood in need of woman's counsel. + +Mrs. Lightener appeared first. "Why, Bonbright!" she exclaimed. + +"Where's Hilda?" asked Lightener. "Need her, too." + +"She's coming, dear," said Mrs. Lightener. + +There are people whose mere presence brings relief. Perhaps it is +because their sympathy is sure; perhaps it is because their souls +were given them, strong and simple, for other souls to lean upon. +Mrs. Lightener was one of these. Before she knew why Bonbright was +there, before she uttered a word, he felt a sense of deliverance. His +necessities seemed less gnawing; there was a slackening of taut +nerves.... + +Then Hilda appeared. "Evening, Bonbright," she said, and gave him her +hand. + +"Let's get down to business," Lightener said. "Tell 'em, Bonbright." + +"I'm going to marry Ruth Frazer to-morrow noon," he said, boldly. + +Mrs. Lightener was amazed, then disappointed, for she had come to +hope strongly that she would have this boy for a son. She liked him, +and trusted in his possibilities. She believed he would be a husband +to whom she could give her daughter with an easy heart.... Hilda +felt a momentary shock of surprise, but it passed quickly. Like her +father, she was sudden to pounce upon the concealed meaning of patent +facts--and she had spent the morning with Ruth. She was first to +speak. + +"So you've decided to throw me over," she said, with a smile.... "I +don't blame you, Bonbright. She's a dear." + +"But who is she?" asked Mrs. Lightener. "I seem to have heard the +name, but I don't remember meeting her." + +"She was my secretary," said Bonbright. "She's a stenographer in Mr. +Lightener's office now." + +"Oh," said Mrs. Lightener, and there was dubiety in her voice. + +"Exactly," said Lightener. + +"MOTHER!" exclaimed Hilda. "Weren't you a stenographer in the office +where dad worked?" + +"It isn't THAT," said Mrs. Lightener. "I wasn't thinking about the +girl nor about Bonbright. I was thinking of his mother." + +"That's why he's here," said Lightener. "The Family touched off a +mess of fireworks. Mrs. Foote refuses to have anything to do with the +girl if Bonbright marries her. Promised to see nobody else did, too. +Isn't that it, Bonbright?" + +"Yes." + +"I don't like to mix in a family row..." + +"You've GOT to, dad," said Hilda. "Of course Bonbright couldn't stand +THAT." They understood her to mean by THAT the Foote family's +position in the matter. "He couldn't stand it.... I expect you and +mother are disappointed. You wanted me to marry Bonbright, myself..." + +"HILDA!" Mrs. Lightener's voice was shocked. + +"Oh, Bonbright and I talked it over the night we met. Don't be a bit +alarmed. I'm not being especially forward.... We've got to do +something. What does Bon want us to do?" + +"He wants me to give him a job." + +She turned to Bonbright. "They turned you out?" + +"I turned myself out," he said. + +She nodded understandingly. "You WOULD," she said, approvingly. "What +kind of a job can you give him, dad?" + +"H'm. THAT'S settled, is it? What do you think, mother?" + +"Why, dear, he's got to support his wife," said Mrs. Lightener. + +Malcolm Lightener permitted the granite of his face to relax in a +rueful smile. "I called you folks in to get your advice--not to have +you run the whole shebang." + +"We're going to run it, dad....Don't you like Ruth Frazer?" + +"I like her. She seems to be a nice, intelligent girl....Cries all +over a man's office...." + +"I like her, too, and so will mother when she meets Ruth. I like her +a eap, Bon; she's a DEAR. Now that the job for you is settled--" + +"Eh?" said Lightener. + +Hilda smiled at him and amended herself. "Now that a very GOOD job +for you is settled, I'll tell you what I'm going to do. First thing, +I'm invited to the wedding, and so is mother, and so are some other +folks. I'll see to that. It isn't going to be any justice-of-the- +peace wedding, either. It's going to be in the church, and there'll +be enough folks there to make it read right in the paper." + +"I'm afraid Ruth wouldn't care for that," said Bonbright, dubiously. +"I know she wouldn't." + +"She's got to start off RIGHT as your wife, Bon. The start's +everything. You want your friends to know her and receive her, don't +you? Of course you do. I'll round up the folks and have them there. +It will be sort of romantic and interesting, and a bully send off for +Ruth if it's done right. It 'll make her quite the rage. You'll see. +...That's what I'm going to do--in spite of your mother. Your wife +will be received and invited every place that _I_ am....Maybe your +mother can run the dowagers, but I'll bet a penny I can handle the +young folks." In that moment she looked exceedingly like her father. + +"HILDA!" her mother exclaimed again. "You must consider Mrs. Foote. +We don't want to have any unpleasantness over this...." + +"We've got it already," said Hilda, "and the only way is to--go the +limit." + +Lightener slammed the desk with his fist. "Right!" he said. "If we +meddle at all we've got to go the whole distance. Either stay out +altogether or go in over our heads.... But how about this girl, +Hilda, does she belong?" + +"She's decently educated. She has sweet manners. She's brighter than +two-thirds of us. She'll fit in all right. Don't you worry about +her." + +"Young man," growled Lightener, "why couldn't you have fallen in love +with my daughter and saved all this fracas?" + +Bonbright was embarrassed, but Hilda came to his rescue. "Because I +didn't want him to," she said. "You wouldn't have MADE me marry him, +would you?" + +"PROBABLY not," said her father, with a rueful grin. + +"I'm going to take charge of her," said Hilda. "We'll show your +mother, Bon." + +"You're--mighty good," said Bonbright, chokingly. + +"I'm going to see her the first thing in the morning. You see. I'll +fix things with her. When I explain everything to her she'll do just +as I want her to." + +Mrs. Lightener was troubled; tears stood in her eyes. "I'm so sorry, +Bonbright. I--I suppose a boy has the right to pick out his own wife, +but it's too bad you couldn't have pleased your mother.... Her heart +must ache to-night." + +"I'm afraid," said Bonbright, slowly, "that it doesn't ache the way +you mean, Mrs. Lightener." + +"It's a hard place to put us. We're meddling. It doesn't seem the +right thing to come between mother and son." + +"You're not," said Hilda. "Mrs. Foote's snobbishness came between +them." + +"HILDA!" + +"That's just what it is. Ruth is just as nice as she is or anybody +else. She ought to be glad she's getting a daughter like Ruth. You'd +be....And we can't sit by and see Bon and his wife STARVE, can we? +We can't fold our hands and let Mrs. Foote make Ruth unhappy. It's +cruel, that's what it is, and nothing else. When Ruth is Bon's wife +she has the right to be treated as his wife should be. Mrs. Foote has +no business trying to humiliate her and Bon--and she sha'n't." + +"I suppose you're right, dear. I KNOW you're right.... But I'm +thinking how I'd feel if it were YOU." + +"You'd never feel like Mrs. Foote, mother. If I made up my mind to +marry a man out of dad's office--no matter what his job was, if he +was all right himself--you wouldn't throw me out of the house and set +out to make him and me as unhappy as you could. You aren't a snob." + +"No," said Mrs. Lightener, "I shouldn't." + +Malcolm Lightener, interrupted. "Now you've both had your say," he +said, "and you seem to have decided the thing between you. I felt +kind of that way, myself, but I wanted to know about you folks. What +you say GOES....Now clear out; I want to talk business to +Bonbright." + +Hilda gave Bonbright her hand again. "I'm glad," she said, simply. "I +know you'll be very happy." + +"And I'll do what I can, boy," said Mrs. Lightener + +Bonbright was moved as he had never been moved before by kindliness +and womanliness. "Thank you.... Thank you," he said, tremulously. +"I--you don't know what this means to me. You've--you've put a new +face on the whole future...." + +"Clear out," said Malcolm Lightener. + +Hilda made a little grimace at him in token that she flouted his +authority, and she and her mother said good night and retired from +the room. + +"Now," said Malcolm Lightener. + +Bonbright waited. + +"I'm going to give you a job, but it won't be any private-office job. +I don't know what you're good for. Probably not much. Don't get it +into your head I'm handing a snap to you, because I'm not. If you're +not worth what I pay you you'll get fired. Understand?" + +"Yes, sir." + +"If you stick you'll learn something. Not the kind of rubbish you've +been sopping up in your own place. I run a business, not a museum of +antiquity. You'll have to work. Think you can?" + +"I've wanted to. They wouldn't let me." + +"Um!...You'll get dirt on your hands....Most likely you'll be +running Bonbright Foote, Incorporated, one of these days. This thing +won't last. Your father'll have to come around....I only hope he +lets you stay with me long enough to teach you some business sense +and something about running a plant. I'll pay you enough to support +you and this girl of yours--but you'll earn it. When you earn more +you'll get it...Sounds reasonable." + +"I--I can't thank you enough." + +"Report for work day after to-morrow, then. You're a man out of a +job. You can't afford honeymoons. I'll let you have the day off to- +morrow, but next morning you be in my office when the whistle blows. +I always am." + +"Yes, sir." + +"Where are you going to live? Got any money?" + +"I don't know where we shall live. Maybe we'd better find a place to +board for a while. I've got a hundred dollars or so." + +"Board!...Huh! Nobody's got any business boarding when they're +married. Wife has too much time on her hands. Nothing to do. +Especially at the start of things your wife'll need to be busy. Keep +her from getting notions....I'll bet the percentage of divorces +among folks that board is double that it is among folks that keep +house. Bound to be....You get you a decent flat and furnish it. +Right off. After you get married you and your wife pick out the +furniture. That's what I'm giving you the day off to-morrow for. You +can furnish a little flat--the kind you can afford, for five hundred +dollars.... You're not a millionaire now. You're a young fellow with +a fair job and a moderate salary that you've got to live on. +...Better let your wife handle it. She's used to it and you're not. +She'll make one dollar go as far as you would make ten." + +"Yes, sir." + +Lightener moved awkwardly and showed signs of embarrassment. "And +listen here," he said, gruffly, "a young girl's a pretty sweet and +delicate piece of business. They're mighty easy to hurt, and the hurt +lasts a long time....You want to be married a long time, I expect, +and you want your wife to--er--love you right on along. Well, be darn +careful, young fellow. Start the thing right. More marriages are +smashed in the first few days than in the next twenty years....You +be damn gentle and considerate of that little girl." + +"I--I hope I shall, Mr. Lightener." + +"You'd better be....Where you going to-night?" + +"To the club. I have some things there. I've always kept enough +clothes there to get along on." + +"Your club days are over for some time. Married man has no business +with a club till he's forty....Evenings, anyhow. Stay at home with +your wife. How'd you like to have her running out to some darn thing +three or four nights a week?...Go on, now. I'll tell Hilda where you +are. Probably she'll want to call you up in the morning....Good +night." + +"Good night...and thank you." + +"Huh!" said Malcolm Lightener, and without paying the slightest bit +of attention to whether Bonbright stayed or went away, he took up the +papers on his desk and lost himself in the figures that covered them. +Bonbright went out quietly, thankfully, his heart glad with its own +song....The future was settled; safe. He had nothing to fear. And +to-morrow he was going to enter into a land of great happiness. He +felt he was entering a land of fulfillment. That is the way with the +very young. They enter upon marriage feeling it is a sort of haven of +perpetual bliss, that it marks the end of unhappiness, of +difficulties, of loneliness, of griefs...when, in reality, it is but +the beginning of life with all the diverse elements of joy and grief +and anxiety and comfort and peace and discord that life is capable of +holding.... + + + + +CHAPTER XIX + + +Hilda Lightener had found Ruth strangely quiet, with a manner which +was not indifference to her imminent marriage, but which seemed more +like numbness. + +"You act as if you were going to be hanged instead of married," Hilda +told her, and found no smile answering her own. + +Ruth was docile. She offered no objection to any suggestion offered +by Hilda, accepted every plan without demurring. Hilda could not +understand her, and was troubled. Wholly lacking was the girlish +excitement to be expected. "Whatever you want me to do I will do, +only get it over with," seemed to be Ruth's attitude. She seemed to +be holding herself in, communing with herself. A dozen times Hilda +had to repeat a question or a statement which Ruth had not heard, +though her eyes were on Hilda's and she seemed to be giving her +attention. + +She was saying to herself: "I must go through with it.... I can't +draw back.... What I am doing is RIGHT--RIGHT." + +She obeyed Hilda, not so much through pliancy as through +listlessness, and presently Hilda was going ahead with matters and +acting as a sort of specially appointed general manager of the +marriage. She directed Ruth what to wear, saw it was put on, almost +bundled Ruth and her mother into the carriage, and convoyed them to +the church, where Bonbright awaited them. She could not prevent a +feeling of exasperation, especially toward Mrs. Frazer, who had moved +from chair to chair, uttering words of self-pity, and pronouncing a +constant jeremiad.... Such preliminaries to a wedding she had never +expected to witness, and she witnessed them with awakened foreboding. + +A dozen or so young folks and Malcolm Lightener and his wife +witnessed the brief ceremony. Until Ruth's appearance there had been +the usual chattering and gayety, but even the giddiest of the +youngsters was restrained and subdued by her white, tense face, and +her big, unseeing eyes. + +"I don't like it," Lightener whispered to his wife. + +"Poor child!... Poor child!" she whispered back, not taking her eyes +from Ruth's face. + +After the rector pronounced the final words of the ceremony Ruth +stood motionless. Then she turned slowly toward Bonbright, swaying a +trifle as if her knees were threatening to fail her, and said in a +half whisper, audible to those about: "It's over?... It's all over?" + +"Yes, dear." + +"It can't be undone," she said, not to her husband, but to herself. +"We are--married." + +Hilda, fearing some inauspicious act or word, bustled forward her +bevy of young folks to offer their babel of congratulations. As she +presented them one by one, Ruth mustered a wan smile, let them take +her cold, limp hand. But her mind was not on them. All the while she +was thinking: "This is my HUSBAND.... I belong to this man.... I am +his WIFE." Once in a while she would glance at Bonbright; he seemed +more a stranger to her than he had done the first time her eyes had +ever rested on him--a stranger endowed with odious potentialities. +... + +Mrs. Lightener took Ruth into her arms and whispered, "He's a dear, +good boy...." There was comfort in Mrs. Lightener's arms, but scant +comfort in her words, yet they would remain with Ruth and she would +find comfort in them later. Now she heard Malcolm Lightener speaking +to her husband. "You be good to that little girl, young man," he +said. "Be mighty patient and gentle with her." She waited for +Bonbright's reply. "I love her," she heard Bonbright say in a low +voice. It was a good answer, a reassuring answer, but it stabbed Ruth +with a new pang, for she had traded on that love; she was a cheat. +Bonbright was giving her his love in exchange for emptiness. Somehow +she could not think of the Cause now, for this was too intimate, too +individual, too personal.... + +Presently Bonbright and Ruth were being driven to their hotel. The +thought of wedding breakfast or of festivities of any sort had been +repugnant to Ruth, and Hilda had not insisted. They were alone. Ruth +lay back against the soft upholstery of Malcolm Lightener's +limousine, colorless, eyes closed. Bonbright watched her face +hungrily, scrutinizing it for some sign of happiness, for some +vestige of feeling that reciprocated his own. He saw nothing but +pallor, weariness. + +"Dear," he whispered, and touched her hand almost timorously. Her +hand trembled to his touch, and involuntarily she drew away from him. +Her eyes opened, and in them his own eager eyes read FEAR.... He was +startled, hurt. Being only a boy, with a boy's understanding and a +boy's pride, he was piqued, and himself drew back. This was not what +he had expected, not what the romances he had read had led him to +believe would take place. In stories the bride was timid, yet eager; +loving, yielding, happy. She clung to her husband, her heart beating +against his heart, whispering her adoration and demanding whispered +adoration from him.... Here all of this was lacking, and something +which crouched at the opposite pole of human emotion was present-- +FEAR. + +"You must be patient and gentle with her," Malcolm Lightener had said +with understanding, and Bonbright was wise enough to know that there +spoke experience; probably there spoke truth, not romance, as it is +set down on the printed page. Even if Ruth's attitude were unusual, +so the circumstances were unusual. It was no ordinary marriage +preceded by an ordinary, joyous courtship. In this moment Bonbright +took thought, and it was given him to understand that now, as at no +other moment in his life with Ruth, was the time to exercise patience +and gentleness. + +"Ruth," he said, taking her hand and holding it with both his own, +"you mustn't be afraid of ME.... You are afraid. You're my wife," he +said, boyishly. "It's my job to make you happy--the most important +job I've got--and to look after you and to keep away from you +everything that might--make you afraid." He lifted her fingers to his +lips; they were cold. "I want to take you in my arms and hold you... +but not until you want me to. I can wait.... I can do ANYTHING that +you want me to do. Both of us have just gone through unpleasant +things--and they've tired and worried you.... I wish I might comfort +you, dear...." His voice was low and yearning. + +She let her hand remain in his, and with eyes from which the terror +was fading she looked into his eyes to find them clear, honest, +filled with love and care for her. They were good eyes, such as any +bride might rejoice to find looking upon her from her husband's face. + +"You're--so good," she whispered. Then: "I'm tired, Bonbright, so +tired--and--Oh, you don't understand, you CAN'T understand.... I'll +be different presently--I know I shall. Don't be angry..." + +"Angry!" + +"I'll be a good wife to you, Bonbright," she said, tremulously, a bit +wildly. "I--You sha'n't be disappointed in me.... I'll not cheat. +... But wait--WAIT. Let me rest and think. It's all been so quick." + +"You asked that," he said, hurt and puzzled. + +"Yes.... It had to be--and now I'm your wife... and I feel as if I +didn't know you--as if you were a stranger. Don't you understand?... +It's because I'm so helpless now--just as if you owned me and could +do what you wanted to with me... and it makes me afraid...." + +"I--I don't understand very well," he said, slowly. "Maybe it's +because I'm a man--but it doesn't seem as if it ought to be that +way." He stopped and regarded her a moment, then he said, "Ruth, +you've never told me you loved me." + +She sensed the sudden fear in his voice and saw the question that had +to be answered, but she could not answer it. To-day she could not +bring herself to the lie--neither to the spoken lie nor the more +difficult lying action. "Not now," she said, hysterically. "Not to- +day.... Wait.... I've married you. I've given myself to you.... +Isn't that enough for now?... Give me time." + +It was not resentment he felt, not doubt of her. Her pitiful face, +her cold little hands, the fear that lurked in her eyes, demanded his +sympathy and forbearance, and, boy though he was, with all a boy's +inexperience, he was man enough to give them, intuitive enough to +understand something of the part he must play until she could adjust +herself to her new condition. + +He pressed her hand--and released it. "I sha'n't bother you," he +said, "until you want me.... But it isn't because I don't want you-- +don't want to hold you--to LOVE you... and to have you love me.... +It will be all right, dear. You needn't be afraid of me...." + +The car was stopping before the hotel. Now the doorman opened the +door and Bonbright helped his bride to alight. She tottered as her +feet touched the sidewalk, and he took her arm to support her as he +might have helped an invalid. The elevator carried them up to the +floor on which were the rooms that had been prepared for them, and +they stopped before the door while he inserted the key and turned the +lock for their admission. On the threshold she halted, swept by a +wave of terror, but, clenching her hands and pressing shut her eyes, +she stepped within. The door closed behind them--closed out her +girlhood, closed out her independence, shut away from her forever +that ownership of herself which had been so precious, yet so +unrecognized and unconsidered. It seemed to her that the closing of +that door--even more than the ceremony of marriage--was symbolical of +turning over to this young man the title deeds of her soul and body. +... + +Bonbright was helping her to rid herself of her wraps, leading her to +a sofa. + +"Lie down," he said, gently. "You're tired and bothered. Just lie +down and rest." + +"Are we going away?" she asked, presently. "Have I got to get ready?" + +He had promised her they would go away--and had not seen her since +that moment to tell her what had happened. Hilda would not let him go +to her that morning, so she was in ignorance of the change in his +condition, of his break with his family, and of the fact that he was +nothing but a boy with a job, dependent upon his wages. Until this +moment he had not thought how it might affect her; of her +disappointment, of the fact that she might have expected and looked +forward to the position he could give her as the wife of the heir +apparent to the Foote dynasty.... It embarrassed him, shamed him as +a boy might be shamed who was unable to buy for his girl a trinket +she coveted at some country fair. Now she must be told, and she was +in no condition to bear disappointments. + +"I promised you we should go away," he said, haltingly, "but--but I +can't manage it. Things have happened....I've got to be at work in +the morning. Maybe I should have told you. Maybe I should have come +last night after it happened--" + +She opened her eyes, and at the expression of his face she sat up, +alarmed. It told her that no ordinary, small, casual mishap had +befallen, but something vital, something which might affect him--and +her tremendously. + +"What is it?" she asked. "What has happened?" + +"I went home last night," he said, slowly. "After--you promised to +marry me--I went home to tell father....Mother was there. There was +a row--but mother was worse than father. She was--rather bad." + +"Rather bad--how, Bonbright?" + +"She--didn't like my marrying you. Of course we knew neither of them +would like it, but I didn't think anything like this would happen. +...You know father and I had a fuss the other day, and I left the +office. I had thought things over, and was going back. It seemed as +if I ought to go back--as if that was the thing to do.... Well, +mother said things that made it impossible. I'm through with them for +good. The Family and the Ancestors can go hang." His voice grew angry +as recollection of that scene presented itself. "Mother said I +shouldn't marry you..." + +"You--you don't mean you're not going to--to have anything to do with +Bonbright Foote, Incorporated--and all those thousands of men?" + +"That's it....I couldn't do anything else. I had to break with them. +Father was bad, but it was mother....She said she would never +receive you or recognize you as my wife--and that sort of thing--and +I left. I'm never going back.... On your account I'm sorry. I can't +give you so much, and I can't do the things for you that I could.... +We'll be quite poor, but I've got a job. Mr. Lightener gave me a job, +and I've got to go to work in the morning. That's why we can't go +away...." + +"You mean," she said, dully, trying to sense this calamity, "that you +will never go back? Never own--that--business?" + +"It was a choice of giving you up or that. Mother made that clear. If +I married you I should never have anything from them...." + +She did not see the happiness that might lie for her in the +possession of a husband whose love was so great that he could give up +the kingdoms of the earth for her. She could not see the strength of +the boy, his loyalty, his honor. All she saw was the crushing of her +plan before it began to germinate.... She had given herself for the +Cause. She was here, this young man's wife, alone in these rooms with +him, because she loved the Cause and had martyred herself for it.... +Her influence was to ameliorate the conditions of thousands of the +Bonbright Foote laborers; she was to usher in a new era for them--and +for that she had offered herself up.... And now, having bound +herself forever to this boy that she did not love--loving another +man--the possibility of achievement was snatched from her and her +immolation made futile. It was as if she plunged into a rapids, +offering her life to save a child that struggled there, to find, when +she reached the little body, and it was too late to save herself, +that it was a wax figure from some shop window.... But her position +was worse than that; what she faced was worse than swift, merciful +death.... It was years of a life of horrid possibilities, tied to a +man whose chattel she was. She stood up and clutched his arm. + +"You're joking," she said, in a tense, metallic voice. + +"I'm sorry, dear. It's very true." + +"Oh!" Her voice was a wail. "It can't be--it can't be. I couldn't +bear that--not THAT...." + +Bonbright seized her by the arms and peered into her face. "Ruth," he +said, "what do you mean? Was THAT why you married me? You're not like +those women I've heard about who married--for MONEY." + +"No....No..." she cried. "Not that--Oh, don't believe that." + +She spoke the truth, and Bonbright could not doubt it. Truth was in +her words, her tone, her face....It was a thing she was incapable +of, and he knew it. She could not be mean, contemptible. He drew her +to him and kissed her, and she did not resent it. A surge of +happiness filled him....She had been dismayed because of him. There +was no other interpretation of her words and actions. She was +conscience stricken because she had brought misfortune upon him. + +He laughed boyishly. "Don't worry about me. I don't care," he said, +gayly, "so long as I have you. You're worth it a dozen times....I'm +glad, Ruth--I'm glad I had to pay for you dearly. Somehow it makes me +seem worthier--you understand what I mean...." + +She understood--understood, too, the interpretation he had put on her +words. It brought a flush to her white cheeks....She disengaged +herself gently. + +"If we're not going away," she said, "I can lie down--and rest." + +"Of course." + +"Alone? In the next room?" + +He opened the door for her. "I'll be as quiet as a mouse," he said. +"Have a good sleep. I'll sit here and read." She read in his eyes a +plea for affection, for another kiss, as she left him, but she had +not the strength to give it. She went into the adjoining room, and +shut the door after her. Then she stood there silently regarding the +door--regarding the KEY.... If she locked it she was safe from him. +He could not come in.... She could lock him out. + +Her hand went to the key, but came away without turning it. No.... +She had no right. She had made her bargain and must abide by it. +Bonbright was her husband and she was his wife, and as such she must +not turn locks upon him.... Marriage gave him the right of free +access. + +Dressed as she was, in the suit that had been her wedding dress, she +threw herself upon the bed and gave up her soul to torment. She had +taken her all and paid it for a thing desirable in her eyes--and her +all had bought her nothing. She had wrenched her love from the man to +whom she had given it, and all her life must counterfeit love for a +man whom she did not love--and in return she would receive--nothing. +She had seen herself a Joan of Arc. That dream was blown away in a +breath.... But the bargain was made. That she did not receive what +she had thought to receive was no fault of Bonbright's--and she must +endure what was to be endured. She must be honest with him--as +honesty showed its face to her. To be honest with him meant to her to +deceive him daily, hourly, to make her life a lie. He was cheated +enough as matters stood--and he did not deserve to be cheated. He was +good, gentle, a man. She appreciated him--but she did not love him. +... And appreciating him, aware of his strength and his goodness to +her, she could not keep her eyes off the door. She lay there eying it +with ever increasing apprehension--yet she did not, would not, could +not, rise to turn the key.... + + + + +CHAPTER XX + + +In every formation of a fresh family group there must be +readjustments of habit and of thought. Two people who fancy they know +each other intimately discover that they are in reality utter +strangers. They start a new acquaintanceship at the moment of +marriage, and the wonder of it is that so many millions of them +manage the thing with success. It is true that a man and woman who +join their hands and their fortunes because of a deep-seated, +genuine, calm affection have a greater chance of lasting happiness +than those who unite because of the spur of sudden, flaring passion. +There are those who contend that friendship and mutual confidence are +a firmer foundation for marriage than the emotion that we call love. +Thousands of men and women have married because prudence told them a +certain other individual would make a trustworthy, efficient, +comfortable husband or wife, and as days and weeks and years passed +this respect and trust and regard has blossomed into a beautifully +permanent flower of love....Doubtless happiness has resulted from +marriages which resulted from motives purely mercenary, for human +beings are blessed by Heaven with a quality called adaptability. Of +no marriage can one predict happiness surely. At the altar the best +one can do is to hope for the best....But what can be said of a +marriage brought about by the causes and motives that led Bonbright +Foote to Ruth Frazer and Ruth Frazer to Bonbright Foote? + +Of the two, Bonbright's reasons most nearly approached the normal, +and therefore the safe; Ruth had been urged by a motive, lofty +perhaps, visionary, but supremely abnormal. Therefore the adjustments +to be made, the problems to be mastered, the difficulties in their +road to a comfortable, reasonably happy future, were multiplied many +times. Instead of being probable, the success of their little social +entity became merely possible, doubtfully possible. + +Ruth, being a woman, understood something of this. Bonbright, being a +boy, and a singularly inexperienced boy, understood it not at all, +and as he sat alone, a closed door between him and his wife, he +wearied his brain upon the puzzle of it. He came to the conclusion +that the present difficult situation was the natural thing. It was +natural for the bride to be timid, frightened, reluctant, for she was +entering a dark forest of strange, new experiences. He understood +that his own case might be exaggerated because their marriage had +been preceded by no ordinary courtship, with the opportunity which a +courtship gives to begin the inevitable readjustments, and to become +accustomed to intimacy of thought and act. + +The ordinary man has little intuition, but a world of good +intentions. Men blunder woefully in their relations with women, not +because of innate boorishness in the sex, not because of willful +brashness, but because of lack of understanding. They mean well, but +their performance is deplorable.... In that moment Bonbright's most +valuable possession was a certain intuition, a fineness, a decency, a +reserve, a natural modesty. As he sat there alone he reached a +conclusion which was, probably, the most profoundly wise conclusion +he was to arrive at in his life. It came not so much from taking +thought, as by blessed inspiration. This conclusion was that he must +court Ruth Frazer as a sweetheart, not approach her as a husband.... + +It was a course that would require infinite patience, forbearance, +fineness. In his love for Ruth he felt himself capable of it; felt +that it would bring its reward. + +So he sat and waited. He did not approach the door which she had +watched with apprehensive eyes until weariness had closed them in +sleep.... + +The luncheon hour had passed when he heard Ruth moving about within. + +"Hungry?" he called to her, boyishly. His voice reassured her. It was +comradely. There was nothing in it that menaced her security....The +sleep and the rest had bettered her. She was less tense, more calmly +resigned to events. She had marshaled her will; had set it to bear +her up and to compel her to carry on bravely and without hysteria the +part of a wife. + +"I am hungry," she said, and presently she appeared in the door, +stood there a moment, and then walked across the room to Bonbright. +"Thank you," she said, simply, and he understood. + +"You don't mind being poor for a while?" he asked. + +"I've always been poor," she said, with something that approached her +old smile. + +"Because," he said, "we are poor. I am going to earn about thirty +dollars a week. So, you see, we can't afford to live here. We've got +to find a little house or flat...." + +"Let's begin," she cried. It was not the delight of a woman at the +thought of hunting for her first home, but the idea of having +something to do, of escaping from these rooms. "Let's go right out to +look." + +"First," he said, with pretended severity, "we eat." + +So they went down to the dining room, and after they had eaten they +inaugurated their house hunting. Perhaps Providence intervened at +this difficult moment to give them occupation. If so, Providence +acted with amazing wisdom and kindness. + +Ruth found an interest in the search. She forgot. Her mind was taken +from morbid breedings as they climbed stairs and explored rooms and +questioned agents. Bonbright was very happy--happier because he was +openly and without shame adapting his circumstances to his purse.... +They found a tiny flat, to be had for a fourth of their income. Ruth +said that was the highest proportion of their earnings it was safe to +pay for rent, and Bonbright marveled at her wisdom in such matters. +... + +Then there were the furnishings to select. Bonbright left the +selection and the chaffering wholly to Ruth--and she enjoyed it. The +business rested, refreshed, stimulated her. It pushed her fears into +the dim background and brought again to the light of day her old self +that Bonbright loved. More than once she turned the light of her +famous grin upon him or upon some thrice lucky salesman. + +But the end was reached at last; everything was done that could be +done, and there was nothing to do but to return to the hotel. Ruth +did her best to keep up her spirits, but by every block that they +approached the hotel, by so much her lightness vanished, by so much +her apprehension, her heartache, the black disappointment of the +failure of her great plan, returned. + +Bonbright saw the change and it grieved him--it strengthened the +determination he had made. When they reached their rooms he drew her +over to the sofa. + +"Let's sit here together, dear," he said. "We haven't had a decent +talk, and there are a heap of things to talk about, aren't there?" + +She forced herself to sit down close to him, and waited icily, +steeling herself to yield to his demonstrations of affection if he +offered them, but he did not. + +"I've an idea," he said. "I--I hope you'll like it. It'll be sort of- +-fun. Sort of a game, you know.... While I sat here this afternoon I +was thinking about us--and--how I want to make you happy....We were +married--suddenly. Most folks play along and get to know each other, +and grow to love each other gradually, I guess....I didn't grow to +love you gradually. I don't know how it was with you. But, anyhow, we +missed our courtship. We started right in by being husband and wife. +Of course I'm glad of that....Don't think I'm not. I wanted you-- +right away. But--but my idea was that maybe we could--have our +courtship now--after we are married....Mayn't we?" + +"What--what do you mean?" she asked, fearfully, hopefully. + +"We'll pretend we aren't married at all," he said. "We'll make +believe we're at a house party or something, and I just met you. I'm +no end interested in you right off, of course. I haven't any idea how +you feel about me....We'll start off as if we just met, and it's up +to me to make you fall in love with me....I'll bring out the whole +bag of tricks. Flowers and candy and such like, and walks and rides. +I'll get right down and pursue you....After a while you'll--maybe-- +get so far as to call me by my first name." He laughed like a small +boy. "And some day you'll let me hold your hand--pretending you don't +know I'm holding it at all....And I'll be making love to you to--to +beat the band. Regular crush I'll have on you....What do you think?" + +"You mean REALLY?...You mean we'll LIVE like that? That we won't be +married, but do like you said?" She was staring at him with big, +unbelieving eyes. + +"That's the idea exactly....We won't be married till I WIN you. +That's the game....And I'll try hard--you haven't any notion how +hard I'll try." There was something pleading, pathetic in his voice, +that went to her heart. + +"Oh," she said, breathlessly, "that's DEAR of you.... You're good-- +so GOOD.... I--I hate myself.... You'll do THAT?... I didn't--know +anybody--could be--so--so good." She swayed, swayed toward him in a +storm of tears, and he drew her face down on his shoulder while with +awkward hand he patted her shoulder. + +"There.... There..." he said, clumsily, happily. She did not draw +away from him, but lay there wetting his coat with her tears, her +heart swelling with thanks-giving; fear vanished, and something was +born in her breast that would never die. The thing that was born was +a perfect trust in this man she had married, and a perfect trust is +one of the rarest and most wonderful things under the sun. + +For so young a man, Bonbright felt singularly fatherly. He held his +wife gently, silently, willing that she should cry, with a song in +his heart because she nestled to him and wept on his shoulder. If he +deluded himself that she clung to him because of other, sweeter +emotion than grief, relief, it did not diminish his happiness. The +moment was the best he had known for months, perhaps the best he had +ever known. + +Ruth sat up and wiped her eyes. He looked into them, saw them cleared +now of dread, and it was a sufficient reward. For her part, in that +instant, Ruth almost loved Bonbright, not as lovers love, but as one +loves a benefactor, some one whose virtues have earned affection. But +it was not that sort that Bonbright asked of her, she knew full well. + +"Now--er--Miss Frazer," he said, briskly, "I don't want to appear +forward for a new acquaintance, but if I suggested that there was a +bully play in town--sort of tentatively, you know--what would happen +to me?" + +"Why, Mr. Foote," she replied, able to enter into the spirit of the +pretense, "I think you'd find yourself in the awkward position of a +young man compelled to buy two seats." + +"No chaperons?" + +"Where I come from," she said, "chaperons are not in style." + +"And we'll go some place after the play....I want to make the most +of my opportunity, because I've got to work all day to-morrow. It's a +shame, too, because I have a feeling that I'd like to monopolize +you." + +"Aren't you going a bit fast for a comparative stranger?" she asked, +merrily. + +He pretended to look crestfallen. "You sha'n't have to put me in my +place again," he promised; "but wait--wait till we've known each +other a week!...Do you know, Miss Frazer, you have a mighty charming +smile!" + +"It has been remarked before," she said. + +"We mustn't keep our hostess waiting. I'm afraid we'll be late for +dinner, now." He chuckled at the idea. + +"I never have eaten dinner with a man in evening dress," she said, +with a touch of seriousness. "In the country I come from the men +don't wear them." How true that was--in the country she came from, +the country of widows who kept boarding houses, of laborers, of Dulac +and their sort! She was in another land now, a land she had been +educated to look upon with enmity; the land of the oppressor. Little +revolutionist--she was to learn much of that country in the days to +come and to know that in it bad men and good men, worthy women and +trifling women, existed in about the same ratio as in her own +familiar land....Bonbright insisted upon buying her violets--the +first costly flowers she had ever worn. They occupied desirable +seats--and the few plays Ruth had seen she had seen from gallery +heights! Fortunately it was a bright play, brimming with laughter and +gayety, presenting no squalid problems, holding up to the shrinking +eyes of the audience no far-fetched, impossible tangles of sex. They +enjoyed it. Ruth enjoyed it. That she could do so is wonderful, +perhaps, but then, so many human capabilities are wonderful! Men +about to be hanged eat a hearty meal with relish.... How much more +might Ruth find pleasure since she had been granted a reprieve! + +When the curtain descended they moved toward the exits, waiting for +the crowd to clear the way. Bonbright's attention was all for Ruth, +but her eyes glanced curiously about, observing the well-fed, well- +kept, brilliantly dressed men and women--men and women of the world +to which she belonged now. As one approached them and saw them, they +were singularly human. Their faces were not different from faces she +was accustomed to. Cleaner they were, perhaps, with something more of +refinement. They were better dressed, but there she saw the same +smiles, the same weariness, the same charm, the same faces that told +their tales of hard work and weary bodies.... They were just human +beings, all of them, HER sort and these.... + +Suddenly her fingers tightened on her husband's arm. He heard her +draw a quick, startled little breath, and looked up to see his father +and mother approaching them, from the opposite direction. Bonbright +had not expected this. It was the last place in the world he had +thought to encounter his parents--but there they were, not to be +avoided. He stopped, stiffened. Ruth stole a glance at his face and +saw it suddenly older, tenser. + +Mr. and Mrs. Foote approached slowly. Ruth knew the moment Mrs. Foote +saw her husband, for the stately woman bit her lip and spoke +hurriedly to Bonbright's father, who glanced at Bonbright and then at +her uncertainly. Ruth saw that Mrs. Foote held her husband's arm, did +not allow him to turn aside, but led him straight toward them.... +Bonbright stood stiff, expectant. On came his father and mother, with +no quickening of pace. Bonbright's eyes moved from one face to the +other as they approached. Now they were face to face. Mrs. Foote's +eyes encountered Ruth's, moved away from the girl to her son, moved +on--giving no sign of recognition. Mr. Foote looked stonily before +him....And so they passed, refusing even a bow to their son, the +only child that had been given them....That others had seen the +episode Ruth knew, for she saw astonished glances, saw quick +whisperings. + +Then she looked up at her husband. He had not turned to look after +his parents, but was staring before him, his face white, his eyes +burning, little knots of muscle gathered at the points of his jaw. +She pressed his arm gently and heard his quick intake of breath--so +like a sob. + +"Come," he said, harshly. "Come." + +"It was cruel--heartless," she said, fiercely, quickly partisan, +making his quarrel her own, with no thought that the slight had been +for her as well as for him. + +"Come," he repeated. + +They went out into the street, Bonbright quivering with shame and +anger, Ruth not daring to speak, so white, so hurt was his face, so +fierce the smolder in his eyes. + +"You see..." he said, presently. "You see...." + +"I've cost you THAT," she said. + +"That," he said, slowly, as if he could not believe his words, "that +was my father and--my mother." + +Ruth was frightened. Not until this moment did she realize what she +had done; not until now did the teeth of remorse clench upon her. To +marry her--because he loved her--this boy at her side must suffer +THIS. It was her doing....She had cheated him into it. She had cost +him this and was giving nothing to pay for it. He had foreseen it. +Last night he had cut adrift from his parents because of her-- +willingly. She knew he would have made, would make, any sacrifice for +her....And she had married him with no love in her heart, married +him to use him for her own ends! + +She dared not doubt that what she had done was right. She dared not +question her act, nor that the end justified the means she had used. +...But the end was not to be attained. By the act of marrying +Bonbright she had made it impossible for herself to further the +Cause....It was a vicious circle of events. + +As she watched his face she became all woman; revolutionist and +martyr disappeared. Her heart ached for him, her sympathy went out to +him. "Poor boy!..." she said, and pressed his arm again. + +"It was to--be expected," he said, slowly. "I'm glad it's over....I +knew what would happen, so why should the happening of it trouble +me?...There have been six generations in my family that would do that +thing.... Ruth, the Foote Tradition is ended. It ended with me. Such +things have no right to exist.... Six generations of it...." + +She did not speak, but she was resolving silently: "I'll be good to +him. I'll make him happy. I'll make up to him for this...." + +He shook himself. "It doesn't matter," he said. "We sha'n't let it +interfere with our evening....Come, Miss Frazer, where shall we +lunch?" + + + + +CHAPTER XXI + + +All of Ruth's life had been spent in contact with the abnormal, the +ultraradical. The tradition which time had reared about HER family-- +as powerful in its way as the Foote Tradition, but separated from it +by a whole world--had brought acquaintanceship and intimacy with +strange people and strange cults. In the parlor of her home she had +listened to frank, fantastic discussions; to lawless theories. These +discussions, beginning anywhere, ended always with the reform of the +marriage relation. Anarchist, socialist, nihilist, atheist, Utopian, +altruist--all tinkered with the family group, as if they recognized +that the civilization they were at war with rested upon this and no +other foundation. + +So Ruth was well aware how prone the individual is to experiment with +the processes of forming and continuing the relations between men and +women which have for their cardinal object the peopling of the earth. +But in spite of the radicalism which was hers by right of inheritance +and training, she had not been attracted by any of them. A certain +basic sense of balance had enabled her to see these things were but +vain gropings in the dark; that they might flower successfully in +abnormal individual cases--orchid growths--but that each was doomed +to failure as a universal solution. For mankind in bulk is normal, +and its safety lies in a continuance of normality. Ages had evolved +the marriage relation as it existed; ages might evolve it into +something different as sudden revolution could not. It was the one +way, and she knew it to be the one way. + +Therefore she recognized that Bonbright and herself were embarked on +one of these unstable, experimental craft. She saw, as he did not, +that it was unseaworthy and must founder at the first touch of storm. +She pinned no false hopes to it; recognized it as a makeshift, +welcome to her only as a reprieve--and that it must soon be discarded +for a vessel whose planking was reality and whose sails were woven of +normal stuff. + +As the days went by and they were settled in their little flat, +living the exotic life which temporarily solved their problem, she +knew it could not last; feared it might dissolve at any moment. +Inevitable signs of the gust that should destroy it had been +apparent...and her dread returned. Even Bonbright was able to see +that his plan was not a perfect success. + +If it had not been for Dulac.... He complicated the thing +unendurably.... If Bonbright were still heir apparent to the Foote +dynasty, and her plan might be carried out.... She felt a duty +toward Dulac--she had promised to hold him always in her thoughts, +felt he was entitled to a sort of spiritual loyalty from her. And, +deprived of him, she fancied her love for him was as deep as the sea +and as enduring as time.... + +Long days alone, with only the slightest labor to occupy her hands +and mind, gave her idle time--fertile soil for the raising of a dark +crop of morbid thoughts. She brooded much, and, brooding, became +restless, unhappy, and she could not conceal it from Bonbright when +he came home eagerly for his dinner, ready to take up with boyish +hope the absurd game he had invented. She allowed herself to think of +Dulac; indeed, she forced herself to think of him.... + +Five days she had been married, when, going to the door in answer to +the bell, she opened it, to find Dulac standing there. She uttered a +little cry of fright and half closed the door. He held it open with +his knee. + +Sudden terror, not of him, but of herself, caused her to thrust +against the door with all her strength, but he forced it open slowly +and entered. + +"Go away," she said, shrinking from him and standing with her back +against the wall. "Go away...." + +"I stayed away as long as I could," he said. "Now I'm not going away- +-until we've had a talk." + +"There's nothing for us to--say," she whispered. "You must be crazy-- +to come here." + +He was laboring under excitement. She could see the smoldering fire +in his black eyes; it was plain that he was worn, tired, a man +fighting in the last ditch. His hold upon himself was not secure, but +she could not be sorry for him now. The possibilities his presence +suggested terrified her and excluded all other thoughts. + +He stood with his burning eyes upon her face, not speaking; staring. +"Go away," she begged, but he shook his head. + +"You've been cheated," he said, hoarsely. "It doesn't matter if you +gave yourself to HIM for the reason you said you did--or for his +money. You're cheated.... His kind always cheats. You're getting +NOTHING.... Are you going to stand it? That's what I came to find +out.... Are you going to stand it?" + +She could make no reply. + +"What are you going to do about it?" he demanded. + +"What can I do?... It's too late." + +"Look here, you married him to get something--to be able to do +something.... You didn't have any other reason. You didn't love him. +... You loved ME. He's been kicked out by his family. He doesn't own +anything. He's out for good, and you can't get anything or do +anything. I want to know what you're going to do about it." + +"Nothing." + +"Nothing?... You're not going to stick to him. You don't love him-- +probably you hate him by this time.... You couldn't help it." + +"I married him," she said. "It isn't his fault if his family put him +out.... It was MY fault. They did it because he married me.... It +was I who cheated HIM--and you can see--what it's--cost him.... I've +got to make it up to him--someway. I--I don't hate him.... He's been +good.... Oh, he's been wonderfully good." + +"Do you want to live with him?" + +"No," she said. "No...." + +"What about me?... I love you, don't I? Wasn't I before HIM?... +Didn't you give yourself to me? What about me?..." + +"That's all--over," she said. "Oh, please go away. I mustn't talk +about that....I'm MARRIED...." + +"Listen," he said, feverishly. "I love you. This fellow you've +married doesn't know what love is.... What does he know about it? +What would he do for you?..." He leaned forward, his face working, +his body quivering with passion. She let her eyes fall, unable to +support his gaze, and she trembled. His old fascination was upon her; +the glamour of him was drawing her. He poured out a flood of +passionate words, bared his soul to her starkly, as he talked +swiftly, burningly of his love, and what his love meant to him and +what it would mean to her. She closed her eyes to shut out the sight +of him; she summoned all the strength of her will to preserve her +from his fascination, to resist his temptation.... + +"I'd have left you alone," he said, "if you'd got what you paid for. +...But when you didn't--when you got nothing--there was no reason for +me to stay away.... You belonged to me. You do belong to me.... Why +should you stick to him? Why?" + +She could not answer him. The only reason she should cling to her +husband was because he WAS her husband, but she knew that would be no +reason to Dulac. + +"There's been a marriage ceremony," he said, scornfully. "What of it? +It isn't marriage ceremonies that unite men and women.... It's love-- +nothing else.... When you told me you loved me you married me more +really than any minister can marry you. That was a real marriage--but +you didn't think you were breaking any laws or violating any morals +when you left me and married HIM. Just because we hadn't gone to a +church.... You're married to ME and living with him--that's what it +amounts to.... Now I'm here demanding you. I'm after my wife." + +"No..." she said, weakly. + +"Yes, my wife.... I want you back and I'm going to have you back. +... With the bringing up you've had, you're not going to let this +CONVENTION--this word--marriage--hold you.... You're coming with +me." + +The thing was possible. She saw the possibility of it, the danger +that she might yield. The man's power drew her. She WANTED to go; she +WANTED to believe his sophistry, but there was a stanchness of soul +in her that continued to resist. + +"No..." she said, again. + +"You'll come," he said, "because you can't stand it. I know.... +Every time he touches you you want to scream. I know. It's torture. +... He'll find out. Don't you think he'll find out you don't love +him--how you feel when he comes near you? And what then?... You'll +come to me willingly now--or you'll come when he pushes you out." + +"He'll--not--find out." + +Dulac laughed. "Anybody but a young fool would have known before +this....But I don't want to wait for that. I want you now." He came +toward her eagerly to take her in his arms. She could not move; her +knees refused to carry her from him....Her senses swam. If he +touched her it would be the end--she knew it would be the end. If he +seized her in his arms she would never be able to escape. His will +would master her will. Yet she could not move--she was under his +spell. It was only subconsciously that she wanted to escape. It was +only the true instinct in her that urged her to escape. + +His arms were reaching out for her now; in an instant his hands would +touch her; she would be clutched tightly to him--and she would be +lost.... + +Her back was against the wall....In that supreme instant, the +instant that stood between her and the thing that might be, the +virtue in her recoiled, the stanchness asserted itself, the command +to choose the better from the worse course made itself heard to her +will. She cried out inarticulately, thrust out with terrified arms, +and pushed him from her. + +"Don't touch me," she cried. "What you say is not true. I know. +...I'm his wife--and--you must go. You must--never come back. +...Bonbright is my husband--and I'll--stay with him....I'll do what +I've got to do. I sha'n't listen to you. Go--please, oh, please go-- +NOW." + +The moment had come to Dulac and he had not been swift enough to +grasp it. He realized it, realized he had failed, that nothing he +could do or say would avail him now....He backed toward the door, +never removing his eyes from her face. + +"You're MY wife," he said. "You won't come now, but you'll come. +...I'll make you come." He stopped a moment in the door, gazing at +her with haggard eyes.... "And you know it," he said. Then he closed +the door, and she was alone. + +She sank to the floor and covered her face with her hands, not to +hide her tears--for there were no tears to flow--but because she was +ashamed and because she was afraid....She knew how close she had +been to yielding, how narrow had been the margin of her rescue--and +she was afraid of what might happen next time, of what might happen +when her life with Bonbright became unbearable, as she knew it must +become unbearable. + +She crouched and trembled...and then she began to think. It was given +her to perceive what she must do. Instead of fondling Dulac in her +thoughts, she must put him out of her heart, she must not permit him +in her dreams....She had promised him he should be always present in +her thoughts. That promise she must break. Daily, hourly, she must +steel herself against him in preparation for his next appearance, for +she knew he would appear again, demanding her....It was not in the +man to give her up, as it was not in him to surrender any object +which he had set his soul to attain. + +In spite of cults and theories and makeshifts and sophistries, she +knew where her duty lay, where the safety of her soul lay--it was in +fidelity to her husband. She resolved that fidelity should be his, +and as she resolved it she knew that he deserved it of her. She +resolved that she would eject Dulac from her life, and that, with all +the strength of her will, she would try to bring herself to give that +love to Bonbright which she had promised him by implication, but +never by word. She did not know that love cannot be created by an +effort of the will.... + +Before she arose from her pitiful posture she considered many plans, +and discarded them all. There was no plan. It must all be left to the +future. First she believed it was required that she should tell +Bonbright she had married him without love, and beg of him to be +patient and to wait, for she was trying to turn her love to him. But +that, she saw, would not serve. He was being patient now, +wonderfully, unbelievably patient. What more could she ask of him? It +would only wound him, who had suffered such wounds through her. She +could not do that. She could do nothing but wait and hope--and meet +her problems as best she could when they arose. It was not an +encouraging outlook. + +Resolve as she would, she could not quiet her fears. Dulac would come +again. He might find her in a weaker moment. Now, instead of one +terror she harbored two.... + + + + +CHAPTER XXII + + +Bonbright, in his business experience, had been like a man watching a +play in a foreign language, from a box seat--with an interpreter to +translate the dialogue. Now he found himself a member of the cast; +very much a member, with abundant lines and business. In his old +position as heir apparent to Bonbright Foote, Incorporated, he had +been unhappy. Time had hung heavily on his hands. He had not been +allowed to participate in actual affairs except as some automatic +machine or rubber stamp participates. There every effort of his +superiors had been directed to eliminating his individuality and to +molding him to the Bonbright Foote type. He had not been required to +use his brains--indeed, had been forbidden to do so. + +In his new employment the condition was reversed. It seemed as if +everything his father had desired him to do was interdicted in +Malcolm Lightener's vast organization; everything that had been taboo +before was required of him now. He was asked to think; he was taught +to make his individuality felt; he was encouraged to suggest and to +exercise his intelligence independently. There were actually +suggestion boxes in every department where the humblest laborer might +deposit a slip of paper telling the boss any notion he had which he +deemed of service to the enterprise. More than that--any suggestion +accepted was paid for according to its value. + +In Bonbright's father's plant change and invention were frowned upon. +New devices were regarded as impious. The typewriter was tolerated; +the telephone was regarded with shame. The Ancestors had not made use +of such things....Malcolm Lightener let no instrument for adding +efficiency pass untried. It was the same in office and in shop. The +plant was modern to the second--indeed, it was a stride ahead of the +minute. There was a large experimental laboratory presided over by an +engineer of inventive trend, whose business it was to eliminate and +combine processes; to produce machines which would enable one man to +perform the labor of three; to perform at one process and one +handling the work that before required several processes and the +passing of the thing worked upon from hand to hand. + +If Bonbright had been interested in any phase of his father's +business it had been in the machine shops. Now he saw how costly were +those antique processes, how wasteful of time and labor. His father's +profits were large; Bonbright saw very quickly how a revolution in +methods would make them enormous. But he knew that revolution would +not take place--the Ancestors forbade.... + +The thing had started at the first moment of his connection with +Malcolm Lightener as an employee. He had reported promptly at seven +o'clock, and found Lightener already in his office. It was +Lightener's custom to come down and to go home later for breakfast. + +"Morning," said Lightener. "Where's your overalls?" + +"Overalls?" said Bonbright. + +"Didn't I tell you to bring some? You'll need 'em. Wait, I'll send a +boy out for some--while we have a talk....Now then, you've got a +job. After six o'clock you and I continue on the same basis as +before; between seven in the morning and six at night you're one of +the men who work for me--and that's all. You get no favors. What they +get you get....There aren't any soft jobs or hangers-on here. +Everybody earns what he's paid--or he finds he isn't getting paid. +Clear?" + +"Perfectly," said Bonbright, not wholly at his ease. + +"The object of this plant is to make automobiles--to make GOOD +automobiles, and to make the most of them that can be made. If one +man falls down on his job it delays everybody else. Suppose one man +finishing THIS"--he held up a tiny forging--"does a botch job.... +There's just one of these to a car, and he's held up the completion +of a car. That means money.... Suppose the same man manages to turn +out two perfect castings like this in the time it once took to turn +out one.... Then he's a valuable man, and he hustles up the whole +organization to keep even with him. Every job is important because it +is a part of the whole operation, which is the turning out of a +complete automobile. Understand?" + +"Yes." + +"Some men are created to remain laborers or mechanics all their +lives. Some are foreordained bookkeepers. A few can handle labor--but +that's the end of them. A very few have executive and organizing and +financial ability. The plums are for them.... Every man in this +plant has a chance at them. You have.... On the other hand, you can +keep on earning what you're getting now until you're sixty. It's up +to you.... I'm giving you a start. That's not sentiment. It's +because you've education and brains--and there's something in +heredity. Your folks have been successful--to a degree and in their +own way. I'm making a bet on you--that's all. I'm taking a chance +that you'll pay back at the box office what you're going to cost for +some months. In other words, instead of your paying for your +education, I'm sending you to school on the chance that you'll +graduate into a man that will make money for me. But you've got to +make good or out you go. Fair?" + +"Yes," said Bonbright. + +"All right. Remember it....You've got the stuff in you to make a man +at the top--maybe. But you don't start at the top. You've got to +scramble up just like anybody else. Right now you're not worth a +darn. You don't know anything and you can't do anything. Day labor's +where you belong--but you couldn't stand it. And it wouldn't be sense +to put you at it, or I would. I'd set you to sweeping out the machine +shops if I thought you needed it....Maybe you figured on sitting at +a mahogany desk?" + +"I came to do whatever you put me at," Bonbright said. "I've been fed +up on sitting at a mahogany desk." + +"Good--if you mean it. I hear a lot of four flush about what men are +willing to do. Heaps of them repeat copybook platitudes....You're +going to wear overalls and get your hands dirty. If you don't like it +you can always quit....I know how to do darn nearly everything +that's done in this place. The man who gets up near me has got to +know it, too." Here was a hint for Bonbright of the possibilities +that Malcolm Lightener opened up to him. "This morning you're going +into the machine shop to run a lathe, and you're going to stay there +till you KNOW how it's done. Then we'll move you some place else. +Your place is in the office. But how soon you get there, or whether +you ever get there, is up to you. Like the looks of it?" + +Bonbright was silent a moment. When he spoke it was not in reply to +Lightener's question, but to put into words a fear that had become +apparent. + +"The men," he said; "how about them?...You know, father sort of +advertised me as a strike breaker and that kind of thing. Our men +hate me. I suppose all laboring men feel that way about me." + +"We don't have any unions here. I run my own plant, and, by gracious! +I always will. I give my men fair pay--better than most. I give them +all the opportunity they ask for. I give them the best and safest +conditions to work in that can be had. I figure a good crew in a +plant is a heap more valuable than good machinery--and I keep my +machinery in repair and look after it mighty careful. But no union +nonsense.... You won't have any trouble with the men." + +Bonbright was not so sure.... Presently the boy returned with the +overalls. Lightener wrote a note and handed it to the boy. "Take this +man to Shop One and give this note to Maguire," he said; then he +turned to Bonbright and jerked his thumb toward the door. Bonbright +got up without a word and followed the boy. + +In a moment the boy opened a big door, and Bonbright stepped through. +The sight took away his breath--not that he had never seen this room +before, but that he was now seeing it through other eyes, not merely +as a spectator, but as a participant. It seemed to him as if the +dimensions of the room should be measured not in feet, but in acres. +It was enormous, but huge as it was it was all too small for the +tangle of machinery it contained. To Bonbright's eyes it seemed a +tangle. A labyrinth of shafting, countershafting, hung from the high +ceiling, from whose whirring pulleys belts descended to rows upon +rows of machines below. It looked like some strange sort of lunar +forest, or some species of monstrous, magic banyan tree. Here were +machines of a hundred uses and shapes, singly, in batteries--a +scrambled mass it seemed. There were small machines--and in the +distance huge presses, massive, their very outlines speaking of +gigantic power. Bonbright had seen sheets of metal fed into them, to +be spewed out at another point bent and molded to a desired form. +Overhead conveyers increased the scrambled appearance. Men with +trucks, men on hurried errands, hurried here and there; other men +stood silently feeding hungry contrivances--men were everywhere, +engrossed in their work, paving scant attention to anything outside +their task. And rushing up to Bonbright was a wave of composite +sounds, a roar, a bellow, a shriek, a rattle, a whir, a grind.... It +seemed the ultimate possibility of confusion. + +But as he walked down the aisle, dodging from time to time men or +trucks that regarded him not at all, but depended on him to clear the +way and to look out for himself, he was able to perceive something of +the miraculous orderliness and system of it. He was given a hint of +the plan--how a certain process would start--a bit of rough metal; +how it would undergo its first process and move on by gradual steps +from one machine to the next, to the next, in orderly, systematic +way. No time was lost in carrying a thing hither and thither. When +one man was through with it, the next man was at that exact point, to +take it and contribute his bit to its transformation.... Something +very like a thrill of pride passed over Bonbright. He was a part of +this marvel.... + +Through this room they walked--the room would have sufficed in extent +for a good-sized farm--and into another, not smaller, and into +another and another. His destination, Shop One, was smaller, but huge +enough. The boy led Bonbright to a short, fat man. in unbelievably +grimy overalls and black, visored cap. + +"Mr. Maguire," he shouted, "here's a man and a note from the boss." +Then he scurried away. + +Maguire looked at the note first, and shoved it into his pocket; then +he squinted at Bonbright--at his face first; then, with a quizzical +glint, at his clothes. Bonbright flushed. For the first time in his +life he was ashamed of his clothes, and for a reason that causes few +men to be ashamed of their clothes. He wished they were of cheaper +cloth, of less expensive tailoring. He wished, most of all, that the +bright new overalls in the bundle under his arm were concealing them +from view. + +"You're a hell of a looking machinist," said Maguire. + +Bonbright felt it to be a remarkably true saying. + +"The boss takes this for a darn kindergarten," Maguire complained. +"Ever run a lathe or a shaper or a planer?" + +"No." + +"He said to stick you on a lathe.... Huh! What's he know about +it?... How's he expect this room to make a showing if it's goin' to +be charged with guys like you that hain't nothin' but an expense?" + +Bonbright got the idea back of that. Maguire was personally +interested in results; Maguire wanted his room to beat other rooms in +the weekly reports; Maguire was working for something more than +wages--he was playing the game of manufacturing to win. + +"You go on a planer," Maguire snapped, "and Gawd help you if you +spoil more castings than I figger you ought to.... The boys here'll +make it hot for you if you pull down their average." + +So the boys were interested, too. The thing extended downward from +the bosses! + +"Goin' to work in them clothes?" asked Maguire, with a grin. + +"Overalls," said Bonbright, tapping his parcel. + +Maguire went to his desk and took a key from a box. "I'll show you +your locker," he said; and presently Bonbright, minus his coat, was +incased in the uniform of a laborer. Spick and span and new it was, +and gave him a singularly uncomfortable feeling because of this fact. +He wanted it grimed and daubed like the overalls of the men he saw +about him. A boyish impulse to smear it moved him--but he was ashamed +to do it openly. + +Maguire led him to a big contrivance which was called a shaper. A boy +of eighteen was operating it. On its bed, which moved back and forth +automatically, was bolted a great cake of iron--a casting in the +rough. The machine was smoothing its surfaces. + +"Show him," Maguire said to the boy, "then report to me." + +The boy showed Bonbright efficiently--telling him what must be done +to that iron cake, explaining how the machine was to be stopped and +started, and other necessary technical matters. Then he hurried off. +Bonbright gazed at the casting ruefully, afflicted with stage fright. +... He was actually about to perform real labor--a labor requiring a +certain measure of intellect. He was afraid he would make a mistake, +would do something wrong, and possibly spoil the casting. He started +the planer gingerly. It had not seemed to move rapidly when the boy +was operating it, but now the bed seemed fairly to fly forward and +snap back. He bent forward to look at the cutting he had made; it was +right. So far he was all right.... Surreptitiously he laid his palm +in a mass of grease and metal particles and wiped it across his +breast.... It was an operation which he repeated more than once that +morning. + +Gradually his trepidation passed and he began to enjoy himself. He +enjoyed watching that casting move resistlessly under the tool; +watched the metal curl up in glittering little curlicues as the tool +ate its way across. He looked with pleasure at the surface already +planed and with anticipation of the surface still in the rough.... +It was interesting; it was fun. He wondered vaguely if all men who +worked at tasks of this kind found pleasure in them, not appreciating +that years of doing the same thing over and over might make it +frightfully monotonous. The truth was the thing had not yet become +work to him. It was a new experience, and all new experiences bring +their thrill. + +Until the noon whistle blew he hardly took his eyes off his work. He +did not know that Maguire passed him a dozen times, not stopping, but +watching him closely as he passed.... With the stopping of work +about him he realized that he was tired. He had lifted weights; he +had used unaccustomed muscles. He was hot, sweaty, aching. He was +hungry. + +"Where do we eat?" he asked the man who stood at the next machine. + +"Didn't you bring no lunch?" + +"No." + +"Some doesn't," said the man, as if he disapproved exceedingly of +that class. "They feed at the hash house across the street.... +Hain't broke, be you?" + +Bonbright understood the kindly offer implied. "Thank you--no," he +said, and followed to the big wash room. + +He ate his lunch from the top of a tall stool. It was not the sort of +food he was accustomed to, and the coffee was far from being the sort +that had been served to him in his home or in his club--but he hardly +noticed it. When he was through he walked back across the street and +stood awkwardly among his mates. He knew none of them. + +An oldish, smallish man looked at him and at his overalls, and +grinned. + +"New man?" he asked. + +"Yes." + +"Thought them overalls wasn't long off the shelf. You done a good +job, though, considerin'." + +Bonbright blushed. + +"Where you been workin'?" + +How was Bonbright to answer? He couldn't tell the truth without +shaming himself in this man's eyes, and all at once he found he +greatly desired the good opinion of this workingman and of the other +workingmen about him. + +"I--The last place I worked was Bonbright Foote, Incorporated," he +said, giving his father's institution its full name. + +"Urn.... Strikin', eh?" + +Bonbright nodded. He had struck. Not with a union, but as an +individual. + +"'Bout over, hain't it, from all I hear tell?" + +"I think so," said Bonbright. + +"Bad business.... Strikes is always bad--especially if the men git +licked. Unions hain't no business to call strikes without some show +of winnin'..... The boys talk that this strike never had no chance +from the beginnin'.... I don't think a heap of that Foote outfit." + +"Why?" + +"Rotten place to work, I hear. A good machinist can't take no +pleasure there, what with one thing and another. Out-of-date +machines, and what not.... That young Foote, the cub, is a hell +winder, they say. Ever see him?" + +"I've seen him." + +"His father was bad enough, by all accounts. But this kid goes him +one better. Wonder some of them strikers didn't git excited and make +him acquainted with a brick. I've heard of fightin' strikes hard--but +never nothin' like this one. Seems like this kid's a hard one. Wants +to smash hell out of the men just to see them smash.... How'd he +strike you?" + +"I was sorry for him," said Bonbright, simply. + +"Sorry?... What's the idea?" + +"I--I don't believe he did what people believe. He didn't really have +anything to do with the business, you know. He didn't count.... All +the things that he was said to do--he didn't do at all. His father +did them and let the men think it was his son." + +"Sounds fishy--but if it's so somebody ought to lambaste the old man. +He sure got his son in bad.... What's this I hear about him +marryin' some girl and gettin' kicked out?" + +"That's true," said Bonbright. + +"Huh!... Wonder what he'll do without his pa. Them kind hain't much +good, I notice.... Maybe he's well fixed himself, though." + +"He hasn't a cent," said Bonbright. + +"Appears like you know a heap about him.... Maybe you know what he's +doin' now?" + +"Working." + +"Friends give him a soft job?" + +"He's working in a--machine shop," said Bonbright. + +"G'wan," said the man, incredulously. Then he looked sharply at +Bonbright, at his new overalls, back again at his face. + +"What's your name?" he asked, suspiciously. + +"Foote," said Bonbright. + +"HIM?" + +"Yes," said Bonbright. + +The man paused before he spoke, and there was something not kindly +that came into his eyes. "Speakin' perty well of yourself, wasn't +you?" he said, caustically, and, turning his back, he walked away. +... That action cut Bonbright more deeply than any of the few +affronts that had been put upon him in his life had cut. He wanted to +call the man back and demand that he listen to the truth. He wanted +to explain, to set himself right. He wanted that man and all men to +know he was not the Bonbright Foote who had brought on the strike and +fought it with such vindictive ruthlessness. He wanted to prove that +he was innocent, and to wring from them the right to meet and to be +received by his fellow laborers as one of themselves.... + +He saw the man stop beside a group, say something, turn, and point to +him. Other men turned and stared. Some snickered. Bonbright could not +bear it. He jostled his way through the crowd and sought refuge in +the shop. + +The morning had been a happy one; the afternoon was dismal. He knew +he was marked. He saw men pointing at him, whispering about him, and +could imagine what they were saying. In the morning he had been +received casually as an equal. Nobody had welcomed him, nobody had +paid particular attention to him. That was as it should be. He was +simply accepted as another workman.... The attitude of the men was +quite the opposite now. He was a sort of museum freak to them. From a +distance they regarded him with curiosity, but their manner set him +apart from them. He did not belong. He felt their hostility.... If +they had lined up and jeered him Bonbright would not have felt the +hurt so much, for there would have been something to arouse his +fighting spirit. + +One remark he overheard, which stood aptly for the attitude of all. +"Well, he's gettin' what's comin' to him," was the sentence. It +showed him that the reputation his father had given him was his to +wear, and that here he would find no friends, scant toleration, +probably open hostility.... He got no pleasure that afternoon from +watching his cake of metal move backward and forward with the planer- +bed. + +When the whistle blew again he hurried out, looking into no man's +face, avoiding contacts. He sneaked away.... And in his heart burned +a hot resentment against the father that had done this thing.... + + + + +CHAPTER XXIII + + +Such pretense as Bonbright's and Ruth's is possible only to the +morbid, the eccentric, or the unhealthy. Neither of them was morbid, +neither eccentric, both abundantly well. Ruth saw the failure of it +days before Bonbright had even a hint. After Dulac burst in upon her +she perceived the game must be brought to an end; that their life of +make-believe was weighted with danger for her. She determined to end +it--but, ironically enough, to end it meant to enter upon another +make-believe existence far harder to live successfully than the +first. One can make believe to love on the stage, uttering skillfully +the words of an author and carrying out the instructions of a stage +director. An audience may be taken in.... A play is brief. But to +begin a spurious love scene which is to last, not twenty minutes, but +for a lifetime, is a matter of quite different color. She determined +to begin it.... + +But with the sound of Bonbright's footfall on the stairs her +resolution vanished. "To-morrow," she whispered to herself, with +sudden dread. "To-morrow...." And so she put it off from day to day. + +In the beginning Bonbright had been optimistic. He had seen her +reluctance, her reserves, vanishing in a few days. But they did not +vanish. He found himself no nearer his wife than he had been at the +beginning. Optimism became hope, hope dwindled, became doubt, uneasy +wonder. He could not understand, and it was natural he should not +understand. At first he had believed his experience was the +experience of all bridegrooms. Days taught him his experience was +unique, unnatural. Ruth saw him often now, sitting moodily, eyes on +the floor--and she could read his thoughts. Yet he tried to bolster +up the pretense. He had given his promise, and he loved Ruth. He +could not, would not do as most men would have done.... What neither +of them saw was that pretense had made a sudden change to reality +impossible.... + +Bonbright was unhappy at home, unhappy at work. Just as he was +outside his wife's real life, so he was excluded from the lives of +the men he worked with. He was not, to them, a fellow laborer; he was +Bonbright Foote VII. But he made no complaint or appeal to Malcolm +Lightener.... He did not know how unnecessary an appeal to Lightener +would be, for Lightener kept himself well acquainted with the facts, +watched and waited, and the satisfaction of the automobile king grew +and increased. + +"He's no squealer," he said to his daughter. "He's taking his +medicine without making a face." + +"What's the good, dad? It's mean.... Why don't you take him into the +office?" + +"We have a testing department," he said. "Every scrap of metal that +goes into a car is tested before we use it.... Bonbright's in the +testing department." + +"Isn't it possible to keep on testing a piece of metal till it's all +used up?" she said. + +"H'm!... Suppose you mind your own business," he said, in his gruff, +granite way--not rudely nor offensively. "How's his wife? How are +they getting along?" + +Hilda shook her head. "They're queer, dad. Somehow I don't believe +things are working out the way they should. I can't understand HER." + +"Squabbling?" + +"Never.... Bonbright's so gentle with her. He has a sort of wistful +way with him as soon as she comes near. It makes me want to cry. +Somehow he reminds me of a fine, affectionate dog watching a master +who doesn't give back any affection. You know." + +"Doesn't she?" + +"Give back affection?... That's just it. I don't know. I've been +there and seen him come home. She acts queerly. As soon as she hears +him coming up the stairs she seems to shut up. It's as if she turned +out the lights.... Where the ordinary girl would be running to kiss +him and make a fuss over him she--doesn't do anything.... And she +keeps watching him. And there's something in her eyes like--well, +like she was blaming herself for something, and was sorry for him. +... She seems, when she's with him, as if she were trying to make up +to him for something--and didn't know how." + +"Readjustment," Lightener grunted. "They jumped into the thing +kerplunk. Queer start-off." + +"I don't know.... She's a dear--and he's a dear.... It isn't like +anything I've ever seen. It's something peculiar." + +"Must be his fault. I told him--" + +"It isn't his fault." Hilda spoke with certainty. "If you could see +him you'd know it. His manner toward her--why, dad, I never saw a man +so sweet and gentle and patient." + +"Maybe that's the trouble. Too much patience is as bad as too much +raising the devil." + +"No.... It's something." + +She turned to leave the room, when her father called after her: +"Bonbright quit chawing castings to-night. He doesn't know it, but +to-morrow he gets a new job.... Has all of that he needs. Knows how +it feels." + +"What's he going to do now?" + +"Nice, light, pleasant job.... He'll be passing rear axles--made by +his father--down a chute to the assembling track. Bet he'll need +Saint Jacob's oil on his back to-morrow night. Give his wife a job." + +"Why," she scolded, for she was on intimate terms with the factory, +"that's common labor. He'll be working with Wops and Guineas and +Polacks." + +He nodded. "If he stands the gaff I'll ease up on him." + +"If he doesn't?" + +Lightener shrugged his shoulders. + +"Dad," said Hilda, "sometimes you make me MAD...." + +When the factory heard what had become of Bonbright it laughed. +Bonbright was aware it laughed, and he set his teeth and labored. +Beside what he was doing now the machine shop had been play. Rear +axles are not straws to be tossed about lightly. Nor are Wops, +Guineas, Polacks, smelling of garlic, looking at one with +unintelligent eyes, and clattering to one another in strange tongues, +such workfellows as make the day pass more quickly.... + +Bonbright had to pass down a certain number of axles an hour. At +definite, brief intervals a fragment of an automobile would move +along the assembling track and pause beneath his spout--and his axle +must be ready. There was a constant procession of fragments, and a +second's delay brought up to his ears pointed commentary from below. +... The more pointed that those below knew who was above them. + +He worked feverishly. After a while it became acute torture. He felt +as if every axle he handled was the last he could manage--but he +forced himself to just one more and then just one more--and another. +He worked in a daze. Thought-processes seemed to stop. He was just a +mechanism for performing certain set acts. The pain was gone-- +everything was gone but the stabbing necessity for getting another +axle on that chute in time. He wanted to stop at a certain stage, but +there was something in him which would not allow it. After that he +didn't care. "Another.... Another.... Another..." his brain sang +over and over endlessly. He was wet with perspiration; he staggered +under the weights; he was exhausted, but he could not stop. It was as +if he were on a treadmill where he had to keep stepping on and on and +on whether he could take another step or not.... After a century the +noon whistle blew. + +Bonbright did not leave his place. He simply sagged down in his +tracks and lay there, eyes shut, panting. Gradually his brain +cleared, but he was too weary to move. Then thirst drove him to +motion and he dragged himself to the wash room, cramped, aching, and +there he drank and sopped himself with cold water.... So this was +what men did to live! No wonder men were dissatisfied; no wonder men +formed unions and struck and rioted!... Bonbright was getting in an +efficient school the point of view of the laborer. + +In the afternoon Malcolm Lightener stood and watched Bonbright, +though Bonbright did not see, for he was working in a red haze again, +unconscious of everything but that insistent demand in his brain for +"another.... Another.... Another...." Lightener watched, granite +face expressionless, and then walked away. + +Bonbright did not hear the evening whistle. He placed another axle on +the chute, but no one was below to take it. He wondered dimly what +was the matter.... A Guinea from the next chute regarded him +curiously, then walked over and touched his shoulder with dirty hand, +and wafted garlic in his face. "Time for quit," said the man. + +Bonbright sat down where he was. It was over. That day was over. Not +another axle, not another, not another. He laid his head against the +chute and shut his eyes.... Presently he staggered to his feet and +walked blindly to the stairway. At the bottom stood Malcolm +Lightener, not there by accident, but with design to test Bonbright's +metal to the utmost. He placed himself there for Bonbright to see, to +give Bonbright opportunity to beg off, to SQUEAL. + +Bonbright, shoulders drooping, legs dragging, face drawn, eyes +burning, would have passed him without recognition, without caring +who it was he passed, but that did not suit Lightener's purpose. + +"Well, Bonbright?" he said. + +Sudden fire flashed in Bonbright's brain. He stopped, and with the +knuckles of a hand that was torn and blistered and trembling, he +knocked on Lightener's broad chest as he would have knocked on a door +that refused to open. "Damn your axles," he said, thickly. "I can get +them there--another--and another--and another--and another.... +They're too slow below.... Make 'em come faster. I can keep up...." +And all the time he was rapping on Lightener's chest. + +He was conscious of what he did and said, but he did not do and say +it of his own volition. He was like a man who dimly sees and hears +another man. Subconsciously he was repeating: "Not another one till +to-morrow.... Not another one till to-morrow...." + +Abruptly he turned away from Lightener and, setting down each foot +heavily with a clump, he plodded toward the wash room. He was going +to rest. He was going to feel cool water on his head and his neck; he +was going to revel in cool water... and then he would sleep. SLEEP! +He made toward sleep as one lost in the desert would make toward a +spring of sweet water.... + +Lightener stood and looked after Bonbright. His granite face did not +alter; no light or shade passed over it. Not even in his gray eyes +could a hint of his thoughts be read. Simply he stood and looked +after Bonbright, outwardly as emotionless as a block of the rock that +he resembled. Then he walked to his office, sat down at his desk, +selected and lighted a cigar, and tilted back in his chair. + +"There's something to that Bonbright Foote formula," he said to +himself. "It's all wrong, but it could produce THAT." + +Then, after a few moments of puffing and of studying the thing, he +said: "We'll see if he comes back to-morrow.... If he DOES come +back--" + +At home that evening Hilda asked him about Bonbright. He was ashamed +to confess to her what he had done to the boy--yet he was proud of +having done it. To his own granite soul it was right to subject men +to such tests, but women would not understand. He knew his daughter +would think him a brute, and he did not want his daughter to think +any such thing. "If he comes back in the morning--" he promised. + +Bonbright came back in the morning, though he had been hardly able to +drag himself out of bed. It was not strength of body that brought +him, but pure will. He came, looking forward to the day as a man +might look down into hell--but he came. "I'll show THEM," he said, +aloud, at the breakfast table, as he forced himself to drink a cup of +coffee. Ruth did not understand. She did not understand what was +wrong with him; feared he was on the verge of an illness. He had come +home the night before, scarcely speaking to her, and had gone +directly to bed. She supposed he was in his room preparing for +dinner, but when she went to call him she found him fast asleep, +moaning and muttering uneasily. + +"What did you say?" she asked, uneasily. + +"Didn't know I spoke," he said, and winced as he moved his shoulders. +But he knew what he had said---that he would show THEM. It wasn't +Malcolm Lightener he was going to show, but the men--his fellow +laborers. The thing that lay in his mind was that he must prove +himself to be their equal, capable of doing what they could do. He +wanted their respect--wanted it pitifully. + +Ruth watched him anxiously as he left the apartment. She knew things +were not well with him and that he needed something a true wife +should give. First, he needed to tell some one about it. He had not +told me. If she had been inside his life, where she belonged, he must +have told her. Second, he needed her sympathy, her mothering.... She +might have been able to give him that--after a fashion.... She felt +how it should be done, knew how she would have done it if only she +loved him. "I could be the right kind of a wife," she said, +wistfully. "I know I could...." + +Bonbright went doggedly to his place at the mouth of the chute and +was ready with the whistle, an axle poised to slide downward to the +assembling car below. He was afraid--afraid he would not be able to +get through the day--absurdly afraid and ashamed of his physical +weakness. If he should play out!... + +A boy tapped him on the shoulder. "You're wanted in the office," he +heard. + +"I've got to--keep up," he said, dully. "Cars are coming along +below," he explained, carefully, "and I've got to get the axles to +them." + +"Here's a man to take your place," said the boy--and so strange is +man created in God's image!--he did not want to go. He wanted to see +it through till he dropped. + +"If you keep the boss waiting--" said the boy, ominously. + +Bonbright walked painfully to Lightener's office. + +"Well?" said Lightener. + +"I can do it--I'll harden to it," Bonbright said. + +"Huh!... Take off those overalls.... Boy, go to Mr. Foote's locker +and fetch his things...." + +"Am--am I discharged?" + +"No," said Lightener, bestowing no word of commendation. Men had +little commendation from him by word of mouth. He let actions speak +for him. When he gave a man a task to perform that man knew he was +being complimented.... But he knew it in no other way. + +"That's the way a laborer feels," said Lightener.... "You got it +multiplied. That's because you had to jam his whole life's experience +into a day...." + +"Poor devils!" said Bonbright. + +"I'm going to put you in the purchasing department--after that, if +you make good--into the sales end.... Able to go ahead to-day?" + +"Yes." + +"Before you amount to a darn as a business man you've got to know how +to buy.... That's the foundation. You've got to be able to buy +right. Then you've got to learn how to make. Selling is easiest of +all--and there are darn few real salesmen. If you can buy, you can do +anything." + +"I--I would rather stay out of the shops, Mr. Lightener. The men-- +found out who I was...I'd like to stay there till they--forget it." + +"You'll go where I put you. Men enough in the purchasing department. +Got a tame anarchist there, I hear, and a Mormon, and a Hindu, and a +single-taxer. All kinds. After hours. From whistle to whistle they +BUY." + +Lightener took Bonbright personally to his new employment and left +him. But Bonbright was not satisfied. Once before he had sought +contact with men who labored, and he had landed in a cell in police +headquarters. That had been mere boyish curiosity to find what it was +all about. Now his desire to know was real. He had been--very +briefly, it is true--one of them. Now he wanted to know. He wanted to +know how they thought, and why they thought that way. He wanted to +understand their attitude toward themselves, toward one another, +toward the class they largely denominated as Capital. He had caught +snatches of conversation--interesting to him, but none had talked to +him. He wanted to get on a footing with them which would permit him +to listen, and to talk. He wanted to hear arguments. He wanted to go +into their homes and see their wives and find out what their wives +thought.... All this had been brought to him by a few days in +overalls. He had no idea that Lightener had intended it should be +brought to him.... + +However, that must lie in the future; his present business was to do +as he was told and to earn his wages. He must earn his wages, for he +had a family to support.... It was his first experience with the +ever-present fear of the wage earner--the fear of losing his job. + +But he determined to know the men, and planned accordingly. With that +end in view, instead of lunching with men in his department, he went +to the little hash house across the road to drink vile coffee and rub +elbows with laborers in greasy overalls. He would go there every day; +he would seek other opportunities of contact.... Now that he felt +the genuine, sympathetic hunger for an understanding of them and +their problems, he would not rest until it was his.... + + + + +CHAPTER XXIV + + +Bonbright found himself a layman in a department of specialists. On +all sides of him were men who knew all about something, a few who +knew a great deal about several things, and a man or two who appeared +to have some knowledge of every element and article that went into a +motor car. There was a man who knew leather from cow to upholstery, +and who talked about it lovingly. This man had the ability to make +leather as interesting as the art of Benvenuto Cellini. Another was a +specialist in hickory, and thought and talked spokes; another was a +reservoir of dependable facts about rubber; another about gray iron +castings; another about paints and enamels, and so on. In that +department it would not have been impossible to compile an +encyclopedia. + +It was impossible that Bonbright should not have been interested. It +was not business, it was a fascinating, enthralling debating society, +where the debates were not of the "Resolved that the world would be +better" sort, but were as to the essential qualities of concrete +things. It was practical debate which saved money and elevated the +standards of excellence. + +The department had its own laboratories, its own chemists, its own +engineers. Everything was tested. Two articles might appear to the +layman equal in virtue; careful examination by experts might not +disclose a difference between them, but the skill of the chemist +would show that this article was a tenth of one per cent, less guilty +of alloy than that, or that the breaking strength of this was a +minute fraction greater than that.... So decisions were reached. + +Bonbright was to learn that price did not always rule. He saw orders +given for carloads of certain supplies which tested but a point or +two higher than its rival--and sold for dollars more a ton. Thousands +of dollars were paid cheerfully for those few points of excellence. +... Here was business functioning as he did not know business could +function. Here business was an art, and he applied himself to it like +an artist. Here he could lay aside that growing discontent, that +dissatisfaction, that was growing upon him. Here, in the excitement +of distinguishing the better from the worse, he could forget Ruth and +the increasingly impracticable condition of his relations with her. + +He had come to a realization that his game of make-believe would not +march. He realized that Ruth either was his wife or she was not.... +But he did not know what to do about it. It seemed a problem without +a solution, and it was--for him. Its solution did not lie in himself, +but in his wife. Bonbright could not set the thing right; his +potentiality lay only for its destruction. Three courses lay open to +him; to assert his husbandship; to send Ruth home to her mother; or +to put off till to-morrow and to-morrow and still another to-morrow. +Only in the last did hope reside, and he clung to hope.... + +He tried to conceal his unrest, his discontent, his rebellion against +the thing that was, from Ruth. He continued to be patient, gentle. +... He did not know how she wept and accused herself because of that +gentleness and patience. He did not know how she tried to compel love +by impact of will--and how she failed. But he did come to doubt her +love. He could not do otherwise. Then he wondered why she had married +him, and, reviewing the facts of his hurried marriage, he wondered +the more with bitterness and heartache. Against his will his affairs +were traveling toward a climax. The approaching footsteps of the day +when something must happen were audible on the path. + +The day after his installation in the purchasing department he +lunched at the little hash house across the street. Sitting on his +high stool, he tried to imagine he was a part of that sweating, +gulping crowd of men, that he was one of them, and not an outsider, +suspected, regarded with unfriendly looks. + +Behind him a man began to make conversation for Bonbright's ears. It +had happened before. + +"The strike up to the Foote plant's on its last legs," said the man, +loudly. + +"So I hear," answered another. + +"Infernal shame. If it was only the closed-shop question I dunno's +I'd feel so. We're open shop here--but we git treated like human +bein's.... Over there--" The man shrugged his shoulders. "Look at +the way they've fought the strike. Don't blame 'em for fightin' it. +Calc'late they had to fight it, but there's fightin' and fightin'. +... Seems like this Foote bunch set out to do the worst that could be +done--and they done it." + +"Wonder when it 'll peter out--the strike?" + +"Back's busted now. Nothin's holding it up but that man Dulac. +There's a man for you! I've knowed labor leaders I didn't cotton to +nor have much confidence in---fellers that jest wagged their tongues +and took what they could get out of it. But this Dulac--he's a +reg'lar man. I've listened to him, and I tell you he means what he +says. He's in it to git somethin' for the other feller.... But he +can't hold out much longer." + +It was true; Dulac could not hold out much longer. That very noon he +was fighting with his back against the wall. In Workingman's Hall he +was making his last fierce fight to hold from crumbling the +resolution of the strikers who still stood by their guns.... He +threw the fire of his soul into their dull, phlegmatic faces. It +struck no answering spark. Never before had he spoken to men without +a consciousness of his powers, without pose, without dramatics. Now +he was himself, and more dramatic, more compelling than ever before. +... He pleaded, begged, flayed his audience, but it did not respond +to his pleadings nor writhe under the whip of his words. It was +apathetic, stolid. In its weary heart it knew what it was there to +do, and it would do it in spite of Dulac.... He would not admit it. +He would not submit to defeat. He talked on and on, not daring to +stop, for with the stoppage of his harangue he heard the death of the +strike. It lived only with his voice. + +In the body of the hall a man, haggard of face, arose. + +"'Tain't no use, Mr. Dulac," he said, dully. "We've stuck by you--" + +"You've stuck by yourselves," Dulac cried. + +"Whatever you say.... But'tain't no use. We're licked. Hain't no use +keepin' up and stretchin' out the sufferin'.... I hain't the least +of the sufferers, Mr. Dulac--my wife hain't with me no more." The +dull voice wabbled queerly. "There's hunger and grief and sufferin'-- +willin'ly endured when there was a chance--but there hain't no +chance.... 'Tain't human to ask any more of our wimmin and +children.... It's them I'm a-thinkin' of, Mr. Dulac... and on +account of them I say this strike ought to quit. It's got to quit, +and I demand a vote on it, Mr. Dulac." + +"Vote!... Vote!... Vote!..." roared up to Dulac from all over the +hall.... It was the end. He was powerless to stay the rush of the +desire of those weary men for peace. + +Dulac turned slowly around, his back to the crowd, walked to a chair, +and, with elbows on knees, he covered his face with his hands. There +was a silence, as men looked at him and appreciated his suffering. +They appreciated his suffering because they appreciated the man, his +honesty to their cause, and to his work. He had been true to them. +For himself he would gain nothing by the success of the strike--for +them he would have gained much.... It was not his loss that bowed +his head, but their loss--and they knew it. He was a Messiah whose +mission had failed. + +The vote was put. There was no dissenting voice. The strike was done, +and Bonbright Foote, Incorporated, was victor. + +Men clustered about Dulac, wringing his hands, speaking words of +comfort with voices that broke, and the number of those who turned +away with tears was greater than of those whose eyes could remain +dry. + +Dulac spoke. "We'll try again--men.... We'll start to get ready--to- +day--for another--fight." + +Then, hurriedly, blindly, he forced his way through them and made his +way out of the hall. Grief, the heaviness of defeat, was all that he +could feel now. Bitterness would come in its time. + +Dulac was a soul without restraints, a soul in eternal uproar. His +life had been one constant kicking against the pricks, and when they +hurt his feet he was not schooled to stifle the cry of pain. He could +not endure patiently and in silence; the tumult of his suffering must +have an outlet. + +Now was the time for an overwrought, overtired man, clothed in no +restraint, to try what surcease was to be found in the bottom of a +glass. But Dulac was not a drinking man. So he walked. As he walked +bitterness awoke, and he cursed under his breath. Bitterness +increased until it was rage, and, as man is so constituted that rage +must have a definite object, Dulac unconsciously sought a man who +would symbolize all the forces that had defeated him--and he chose +Bonbright Foote. He chose Bonbright the more readily because he hated +the boy for personal reasons. If Dulae and Bonbright had met at this +moment there would have happened events which would have delighted +the yellower press. But they did not meet. Bonbright was safe in +Lightener's purchasing department, learning certain facts about brass +castings. + +So Dulac walked and walked, and lashed himself into rage. Rage abated +and became biting disappointment and unspeakable heaviness of heart. +Again rage would be conjured up only to ebb again and to flood again +as the hours went by. + +There is an instinct in man which, when his troubles become too +weighty to bear alone, sends him to a woman. Perhaps this is the +survival of an idea implanted in childhood when baby runs to mother +for sure comfort with broken doll or bruised thumb. It persists and +never dies, so that one great duty, one great privilege, one great +burden of womankind is to give ear to man's outpourings of his woes, +and to offer such comfort as she may.... + +Dulac was drawn to Ruth. + +This time she did not try to close the door against him. His first +words made that impossible. + +"I'm--beaten," he said, dully. + +His flamboyance, his threatricality, was gone. He was no longer +flashily masterful, no longer exotically fascinating. He sagged.... +He was just a soul-weary, disappointed man, looking at her out of +hollow, burning eyes. He had spent himself magnificently into +bankruptcy. His face was the face of a man who must rest, who must +find peace.... Yet he was not consciously seeking rest or peace. He +was seeking her.... Seeking her because he craved her, and seeking +her to strike at her husband, who had become a symbol of all the +antagonists he had been fighting. + +His appearance disarmed her; her fear of him and herself was lured +away by the appearance of him. She felt nothing but sympathy and +tenderness and something of wonder that he--Dulac the magnificent-- +should be brought to this pass. So she admitted him, regardless even +of the lateness of the afternoon hour. + +He followed her heavily and sank into a chair. + +"You're sick," she said, anxiously. + +He shook his head. "I'm--beaten," he repeated, and in truth beaten +was what he looked, beaten and crushed.... "But I'll--try again," he +said, with a trace of the old gleam in his eyes. + +She clasped and unclasped her hands, standing before him, white with +the emotions that swayed her.... Here was the man she loved in his +bitterest, darkest moment--and she was barred away from him by +unwelcome barriers. She could not soothe him, she could not lighten +his suffering with the tale of her love for him, but she must remain +mute, holding out no hand to ease his pain. + +"I came for you," he said, dully. + +"No," she said. + +"Ruth--I need you--now...." This man, who had wooed her boldly, had +demanded her masterfully, now was brought to pleading. He needed her. +It was plain that he did need her, and, realizing it, she saw the +danger of it. It was a new, a subtle attack, and it had taken her +unawares. + +"I can't.... I can't.... I mustn't..." she said, breathlessly. + +"I must have you," he said, with dead simplicity, as one states a +bare, essential fact. Then Bonbright was visualized before him, and +rage flooded once more. "He sha'n't keep you!... You're mine--you +were mine first.... What is he to you? I'm going to take you away +from him.... I can do THAT...." + +He was less dangerous so. Perhaps instinct told him, for his passion +stilled itself, and he became tired, pitiful again. + +"We've got a right to be happy," he said, in his tired voice. "You're +not happy--and I'm--beaten.... I want you--I need you.... You'll +come with me. You've got to come with me." + +She was moved, swayed. He needed her.... She had cheated Bonbright +in the beginning. She was not his wife.... He had none of her love, +and she believed this man had it wholly.... She had wronged +Bonbright all she could wrong him--what would this matter? It was not +this that was wrong, but the other--the marrying without love.... +And she, too, was beaten. She had played her game and lost, not going +down to defeat fighting as Dulac had gone down, but futilely, +helplessly. She had given herself for the Cause--to no profit.... +And her heart yearned for peace, for release. + +"I'm his wife," she said, still struggling flutteringly. + +"You're MY wife." He lifted his arms toward her, and she swayed, took +a step toward him--a step toward the precipice. Suddenly she stopped, +eyes startled, a deeper pallor blighting her face--for she heard +Bonbright's step on the stairs.... She had forgotten the lateness of +the hour. + +"Oh'." she said. + +"What is it?" + +"HE is--here." + +She was awakened by the shock of it, and saw, saw clearly. She had +stood upon the brink--and HE had come in time.... And then she was +afraid. + +Neither of them spoke. Dulac got to his feet, his breath coming +audibly, and so they waited. + +Bonbright opened the door. "Ruth," he called, putting what pretense +of gayety he could into his voice. "You've got company. The chronic +visitor is here." He was playing his game bravely. + +She did not answer. + +"Ruth," he called again, and then stood in the door. She could not +see him, but she felt his presence, felt his silence, felt the look +of surprise changing to suspicion that she knew must be in his eyes. + +For a moment he stood motionless, not comprehending. Then the +attitude of his wife and of Dulac spoke eloquently, and he whitened. + +"I don't understand," he said. The words were meaningless, pointless, +perhaps, but they stabbed Ruth to the heart. She turned to him, saw +him step forward slowly, looking very tall, older than she had ever +known him. He had drawn within himself, and there manifested itself +his inheritance from his ancestors. He was like his father, but with +an even more repressed dignity than was his father's. + +"You don't understand," snarled Dulac. "Then I'll tell you. I'm glad +you came.... I'm after your wife. She's going away with me." + +"No.... No..." Ruth whispered. + +"Be still.... She's mine, Foote--and always was. You thought she was +yours--well, she's one thing you can't have. I'm going to tell you +why she married you...." + +Ruth cried out in incoherent fright, protesting. + +"She married you to use you.... Not even for your money. She married +you because her heart was with the men your kind is grinding down. +... She saw you were the kind of man a woman could twist around her +finger--and you owned five thousand men.... Get the idea?... She was +going to do things for them--with you. You were nothing but a button +she would push. So she married you--and you cheated her.... So she's +done with you. You can't give what she paid for, and she's going away +with me.... She LOVES me. She was promised to marry me--when she saw +what she could do with you--and I let her go.... If she could give, +so could I.... But I loved her and she loved me--and we're going +away." + +It was true. Bonbright knew it was true, but he would not admit his +belief until he had confirmation from his wife's lips. + +"Is this true?" he asked, quietly. + +She was shaking with sobs, crouching against the wall. + +"Don't be afraid," Bonbright said again, in a strange, quiet, +courteous voice. "Is it true?" + +"Yes," she whispered, for she could not lie with his eyes upon her. + +"I knew there was--something," he said, with a little halt in his +voice.... That was all. He did not look at Dulac, but stood looking +at her for a moment steadily, almost with grave inquiry.... She +looked from him to Dulac. Subconsciously she compared them.... +Bonbright did not speak again, but turned slowly and walked steadily +out of the room.... Ruth heard the outer door close behind him and +knew he was gone.... Gone! + +Dulac laughed shortly. "That settled HIM," he said. "Now you'll +come." + +She stood regarding him as she might have regarded some strangely +endowed person she had never seen before. Then with a sudden, +passionate vehemence she burst out upon him: + +"Never.... Never.... I'll never go with you. I'm his wife--his +wife.... Oh, what have you done?... I hate you--I hate you! Don't +ever dare--come near me again.... I hate you...." + +She turned and fled to her room and locked the door. Though he +knocked and called, though he pleaded and threatened, she made no +reply, but sat dry-eyed, on her bed, until she heard him go away +raging.... + + + + +CHAPTER XXV + + +Hilda Lightener's electric stopped before the apartment house where +Bonbright Foote lived, and Hilda alighted. She ignored bell and +speaking tube and ran upstairs to Bonbright's door, on which she +knocked as a warning. Then she opened the door and called: "It's me. +Anybody home?" + +Nobody replied. She called again, and walked into the little living +room where Ruth and Bonbright and Dulac had faced one another an hour +before.... She called again. This time she heard a sound, muffled, +indistinct, but recognizable as a sob. + +"Ruth!" she called, and went to the bedroom door. Now she could hear +Ruth within, sobbing alarmingly. + +"Ruth Foote," said Hilda, "what's the matter?... Where's +Bonbright?... I'm coming in." + +She opened the door, saw Ruth outstretched on the bed, face buried in +her pillow, sobbing with a queer, startling dryness. It was not the +sob of a woman in an attack of nerves, not the sob of a woman merely +crying to rest herself, nor the sob of a bride who has had a petty +quarrel with her husband. It was different, alarmingly different. +There was despair in it. It told of something seriously awry, of +stark tragedy. + +Hilda's years were not many, but her intuition was sure. She did not +demand explanations, did not command Ruth to stop crying and tell +what ailed her, but sat down quietly on the bed and stroked the +sobbing girl's hair, crooning over her softly. "There!... There!..." + +Gradually the tenseness, the dry, racking, tearing quality of Ruth's +sobs, softened, ameliorated. Presently she was crying, quietly, +pitifully.... Hilda breathed with relief. She did not know that for +an hour Ruth had sat on the edge of her bed, still, tearless, staring +blindly before her--her soul drying up and burning within her for +lack of tears. She had been unable to cry. She had uttered no sound +until Hilda's voice came in to her. Then she had thrown herself prone +in that paroxysm of wrenching sobs.... + +"There!... There!..." Hilda crooned. + +Ruth's hand crept out fumblingly, found Hilda's dress, and clutched +it. Hilda laid her warm hand over Ruth's cold fingers--and waited. + +"He's--gone," Ruth sobbed, presently. + +"Never mind, honey.... Never mind, now." + +Ruth mumbled incoherently. After a time she raised herself on her +arms and crouched beside Hilda, who put her arms around her and held +her close, as she would have held a troubled child. + +"You'll--despise me," Ruth whispered. + +"I guess not." Hilda pressed Ruth's slenderness against her more +robust body reassuringly. "I don't despise folks, as a rule.... Want +to talk now?" + +She saw that the time for speech had come. + +"He won't come back.... I saw it in his eyes." + +"Who won't come back, dear?" + +"Bonbright." Ruth drew a shuddering breath. Then haltingly, +whimperingly, sobs interrupting, she talked. She could not tell it +fast enough. It must be told, her mind must be relieved, and the +story, pent up so long within her, rushed forth in a flood of +despairing, self-accusing words. It came in snatches, fragments, as +high lights of suffering flashed upon her mind. She did not start at +the beginning logically and carry through--but the thing as a whole +was there. Hilda had only to sort it and reassemble it to get the +pitiful tale complete. + +"You--you don't mean you married Bonbright like some of those Russian +nihilist persons one hears about--just to use him and your position-- +for some socialist or anarchist thing? You're not serious, Ruth?... +Such things aren't." + +"I--I'd do THAT again," she said. "It was right--to do that--for the +good of all those men.... It's not that--but the rest--not keeping +to my bargain--and--Dulac. I would have--gone with him." + +Hilda shook her head. "Not farther than the door," she said. "You +couldn't--not after Bonbright has been such--such an idiotic angel +about you." + +"I would have--THEN." + +"But you wouldn't now?" + +"I--I can't bear to THINK of him...." + +"Um!..." Hilda's expressive syllable was very like her father's. It +was her way of saying, "I see, and I'll bet you don't see, and I'm +not surprised particularly, but you'll be surprised when you find it +out." It said all that--to Hilda's satisfaction. + +"He's been gone hours," Ruth said, plaintively, and Hilda understood +her to refer to Bonbright. + +"Time he was coming back, then," she said. + +"He--won't come back--ever.... You don't know him the way I do." +There was something very like jealousy in Ruth's tone. "He's good-- +and gentle--but if he makes up his mind--If he hadn't been that way +do you think he could have lived with me the way he HAS?" + +"He must have loved you a heap," Hilda said, enviously. + +"He did.... Oh, Hilda, it wasn't wrong to marry him for what I did. +... I hadn't any right to consider him--or me. I hadn't, had I?" + +"I don't belong," said Hilda. "If I wasn't a wicked capitalist I +might agree with you--MAYBE. I'm not going to scold you for it-- +because you THOUGHT it was right, and that always makes the big +difference.... You thought you were doing something splendid, didn't +you--and then it fizzled. It must have been tough--I can get that +part of it.... To find you'd married him and couldn't get out of it +--and that he didn't have any thousands of men to--tinker with.... +Especially when you loved Mr. Dulac." Hilda added the last sentence +with shrewd intent. + +"I don't love him--I don't.... If you'd seen him--and Bonbright..." + +"But you did love him," Hilda said, severely Ruth nodded dumbly. + +"You're sure Bonbright won't come back?" + +"Never," said Ruth. + +"Then you'd better go after him." + +Ruth did not answer. She was calmer now, more capable of rational +thought. What SHOULD she do? What was to be done with this +situation?... Her brief married life had been a nightmare with a +nightmare's climax; she could not bear a return to that. Her husband +was gone. She was free of him, free of her dread of the day when she +must face realities with him.... And Bonbright--she felt certain he +would not want her to run after him, that, somehow, it would lower +her even farther in his eyes if she did so. There was a certain +dignity attaching to him that she dared not violate, and to run after +him would violate it. There would, of necessity, be a scene. She +would have to explain, beg, promise--lie. She did not believe she +could lie to him again--nor that she could make him believe a lie. +... Pretense between them had become an impossibility.... She wanted +him to know she had not gone with Dulac, would not go with Dulac. It +seemed to her she could not bear to have him think THAT of her. She +had made his love impossible, but she craved his respect. That was +all.... She was freed from him--and it was better so. The phase of +it that she did not analyze was why her heart ached so. She did not +study into that. + +"I don't want him--back," she said to Hilda. "It would be just like +it was--before." + +"What ARE you going to do, then? You've got to do something." + +"I don't know.... Why must I do something? Why can't I just wait-- +and let him do what--whatever is done?" + +"Because--if I know anything about Bonbright--he won't do a thing. +... He'll just step aside quietly and make no fuss. I'm afraid he's-- +hurt. And he's been hurt so much before." + +"I'm--sorry." The words sounded weak, ineffectual. They did not +express her feelings, her remorse, her self-accusation. + +"Sorry?... You haven't cut a dance with him, you know, or kept him +waiting while you did your hair.... You've more or less messed up +his life. Yes, you have. There isn't any use mincing words. Your +motives may have been lofty and noble and all that sort of thing-- +from your point of view. But HIS point of view is what I'm thinking +about now.... Sorry!" + +"Don't scold. I can't--bear it. I can't bear anything more.... +Please go away. I know you despise me. Leave me alone. Go away..." + +"I'll do nothing of the kind. You're all upset, and you deserve a heap +more than scolding.... But I like you." Hilda was always direct. +"You're more or less of a little idiot, with your insane notions and +your Joan of Arc silliness, but I like you. You're not fit to be left +alone. I'm in charge.... So go and dabble cold water on your eyes, +so you don't look like Nazimova in the last act, and come along with. +me. We'll take a drive, and then I'm coming back to stay all night +with you.... Yes, I am," she said, with decision, as Ruth started to +object. "You do what I say." + +Hilda drove Ruth to her own house. "I've got to tell mother I'm going +to stay with you," she said. "Will you come in?" + +"No--please," Ruth answered. + +"I won't be but a jiffy, then." And Hilda left Ruth alone in the +electric. Alone! Suddenly Ruth was afraid of being alone. She was +thankful for Hilda, thankful Hilda was going to see her through. + +Hilda's father and mother were in the library. + +"Thought you were going some place with Bonbright and his wife," said +Malcolm Lightener. + +"Dad," said Hilda, with characteristic bluntness and lack of preface, +"they're in a dickens of a mess." + +"Bonbright?" + +"And Ruth." + +"Huh!..." Lightener's grunt seemed to say that it was nothing but +what he expected. "Well--go ahead." + +Hilda went ahead. Her father punctuated her story with sundry grunts, +her mother with exclamations of astonishment and sorrow. Hilda told +the whole story from the beginning, and when she was done she said: +"There it is. You wouldn't believe it. And, dad, Bonbright Foote's an +angel. A regular angel with wings." + +"Sometimes it's mighty hard to tell the difference between an angel +and a damn fool," said Lightener. "I suppose you want me to mix into +it. Well, I won't." + +"You haven't been asked," said Hilda. "I'm doing the mixing for this +family. I just came to tell you I am going to stay all night with +Ruth--and to warn you not to mix in. You'd do it with a sledge +hammer. I don't suppose it's any use telling you to keep your hands +off--for you won't. But I wish you would." + +"You'll get your wish," he said. + +"I won't," she answered. + +"Poor Bonbright," Mrs. Lightener said, "it does seem as if about +every misfortune had happened to him that can happen.... And he +can't go to his mother for sympathy." + +"He isn't the kind to go to anybody for sympathy," said Lightener. + +"Then don't you go to him with any," said Hilda. + +"I told you I wasn't going to have anything to do with it." + +"I haven't any patience with that girl," said Mrs. Lightener. "Such +notions! Wherever did she get them?... It's all a result of this +Votes for Women and clubs studying sociology and that. When I was a +girl--" + +"You wore hoop skirts, mammy," said Hilda, "and if you weren't +careful when you sat down folks saw too much stocking.... Don't go +blaming Ruth too much. She thought she was doing something +tremendous." + +"I calc'late she was," said Malcolm Lightener, "when you come to +think of it.... Too bad all cranks can't put the backbone they use +in flub dub to some decent use. I sort of admire 'em." + +"Father!" expostulated Mrs. Lightener. + +"You've got to. They back their game to the limit.... This little +girl did.... Tough on Bonbright, though." + +Hilda walked to the door; there she stopped, and said over her +shoulder: "Tell you what I think. I think she's mighty hard in love +with him--and doesn't know it." + +"Rats!" said her father, elegantly. + +At that moment Bonbright was writing a letter to his wife. It was a +difficult letter, which he had started many times, but had been +unable to begin as it should be begun.... He did not want to hurt +her; he did not want her to misunderstand; so he had to be very +clear, and write very carefully what was in his heart. It was a sore +heart, but, strangely, there was no bitterness in it toward Ruth. He +found that strange himself, and marveled at it. He did not want to +betray his misery to her--for that would hurt her, he knew. He did +not want to accuse. All he wanted to do was to do what he could to +set matters right for her. For him matters could never be set right +again. It was the end.... The way of its coming had been a shock, +but that the end had come was not such a shock. He perceived now that +he had been gradually preparing himself for it. He saw that the life +they had been living could have ended in nothing but a crash of +happiness.... He admitted now that he had been afraid of it almost +since the beginning.... + +"My Dear Ruth," he wrote. Then he stopped again, unable to find a +beginning. + +"I am writing because that will be easier for both of us," he wrote-- +and then scratched it out, for it seemed to strike a personal note. +He did not want to be personal, to allow any emotion to creep in. + +"It is necessary to make some arrangements," he began once more. That +was better. Then, "I know you will not have gone away yet." That +meant away with Dulac, and she would so understand it. "I hope you +will consent to stay in the apartment. Everything there, of course, +is yours. It is not necessary for us to discuss money. I will attend +to that carefully. In this state a husband must be absent from his +wife for a year before she can be released from him. I ask you to be +patient for that time." That was all of it. There was nothing more to +say. He read it, and it sounded bald, cold, but he could not better +it. + +At the end he wrote, "Yours sincerely," scratched it out, and wrote, +"Yours truly," scratched that out, and contented himself by affixing +merely his name. Then he copied the whole and dispatched it to his +wife by messenger. + +It arrived just after Ruth and Hilda returned. + +"It's from him," said Ruth. + +"Open it, silly, and see what he says." + +"I'm afraid...." + +Hilda stamped her foot. "Give it to me, then," she said. + +Ruth held the note to her jealously. She opened it slowly, fearfully, +and read the few words it contained. + +"Oh..." she said, and held it out to Hilda. She had seen nothing but +the bareness, the coldness of it. + +"It's perfect," said Hilda. "It's BONBRIGHT. He didn't slop over--he +was trying not to slop over, but there's love in every letter, and +heartache in every word of it.... And you couldn't love him. Wish +_I_ had the chance." + +"You--you will have," said Ruth, faintly. + +"If I do," said Hilda, shortly, "you bet I WON'T WASTE it." + + + + +CHAPTER XXVI + + +Hilda knew her father. He could not keep his hands off any matter +that interested him, and most matters did interest him. He had grown +to have an idea that he could take hold of almost any sort of tangle +or enterprise or concern and straighten it out. Probably it was +because he was so exceedingly human.... Therefore he was drawn +irresistibly to his purchasing department and to Bonbright Foote. + +"Young man," he said, gruffly, "what's this I hear?" + +Bonbright looked up inquiringly. + +"Come over here." Lightener jerked his head toward a private spot for +conversation. "About you and that little girl," he said. + +"I would rather not talk about it," said Bonbright, slowly. + +"But I'm going to talk about it. It's nonsense...." + +Bonbright looked very much like his father; tall, patrician, coldly +dignified. "Mr. Lightener," he said, "it is a thing we will not +mention--now or later." Seven generations contributed to that answer +and to the manner of it. It was final. It erected a barrier past +which even Malcolm Lightener could not force his way, and Lightener +recognized it. + +"Huh!..." he grunted, nonplused, made suddenly ill at ease by this +boy. For a moment he looked at Bonbright, curiously, appraisingly, +then turned on his heel and walked away. + +"Young spriggins put me in my place," he said to Mrs. Lightener that +evening. "I wish I knew how to do it--valuable. Made me feel like he +was a total stranger and I'd been caught in his hen house.... That +Bonbright Foote business isn't all bad by a darn sight." + +From that day Bonbright tried to work himself into forgetfulness. +Work was the only object and refuge of his life, and he gave himself +to it wholly. It was interesting work, and it kept him from too much +thinking about himself.... If a man has ability and applies himself +as Bonbright did, he will attract notice. In spite of his identity +Bonbright did attract notice from his immediate superiors. It was +more difficult for him, being who he was, to win commendation than it +would have been for an unmarked young man in the organization. That +was because even the fairest-minded man is afraid he will be tempted +into showing favoritism--and so withholds justice.... But he forced +it from his laborers--not caring in the least if he had it or not. +And word of his progress mounted to Malcolm Lightener. + +His craving for occupation was not satisfied with eight hours a day +spent in the purchasing department. It was his evenings that he +feared, so he filled them with study--study of the manufacture of the +automobile. Also he studied men. Every noon saw him in the little +hash house; every evening, when he could arrange it so, saw him with +some interested employee, boss, department boss, or somebody +connected with Malcolm Lightener's huge plant, pumping them for +information and cataloguing and storing it away in his mind. He tried +to crowd Ruth out of his mind by filling it so full of automobile +there would be no room for her.... But she hid in unexpected +crannies, and stepped forth to confront him disconcertingly. + +Gradually the laboring men changed their attitude toward him and +tolerated him. Some of them even liked him. He listened to their +talk, and tried to digest it. Much he saw to call for his sympathy, +much that they considered vital he could not agree with; he could +not, even in a majority of things, adapt his point of view to theirs. +For he was developing a point of view. + +On that evening when he had gone down to see what a mob was like he +had no point of view, only curiosity. He had leaned neither toward +his father's striking employees nor against them.... His attitude +was much the same now--with a better understanding of the problems +involved. He was not an ultracapitalist, like his father, nor a +radical like Dulac.... One thing he believed, and that was in the +possibility of capital and labor being brought to see through the +same eyes. He believed the strife between them, which had waged from +time immemorial, was not necessary, and could be eliminated.... But +as yet he had no cure for the trouble. + +He did not lean to socialism. He was farther away from that theory +than he was from his father's beliefs. He belonged by training and by +inheritance to the group of employers of labor and utilizers of +capital.... Against radicalism he had a bitter grievance. Radicalism +had given him his wife--for reasons which he heard expressed by +laboring men every day. He had no patience with fanaticism; on the +other hand, he had little patience with bigotry and intolerance. His +contact with the other side was bringing no danger of his conversion. +... But he was doing what he never could have done as heir apparent +to the Foote dynasty--he was asserting in thought his individuality +and forming individual opinions.... His education was being +effectively rounded out. + +News of the wrecking of Bonbright's domestic craft came to his father +quickly, carried, as might have been anticipated, by Hangar. + +"Your son is not living with his wife, Mr. Foote," Rangar announced. + +"Indeed!" said Mr. Foote, concealing both surprise and gratification +under his habitual mask of suave dignity. "That, I fear, was to have +been anticipated.... Have you the particulars?" + +"Only that she is living in their apartment, and he is boarding with +one of the men in his department at Lightener's." + +"Keep your eye on him, Rangar--keep your eye on him. And report." + +"Yes, sir," said Rangar, not himself pleased by the turn affairs had +taken, but resolved to have what benefit might lie thereabouts. His +resentment was still keen to keep him snapping at Bonbright's heels. + +The breach between himself and his son had been no light blow to Mr. +Foote. It threatened his line. What was to become of Bonbright Foote, +Incorporated, with no heir to hand the business over to when his +hands could drop it? He wanted his son, not as a father wants his +son, but because a Bonbright Foote VII was requisite. He had hoped +for this thing that had happened; indeed, had felt confident it would +happen, and that he would have Bonbright back unencumbered, purged of +nonsense. + +He spoke of it with satisfaction to his wife when he returned to his +home that afternoon to take up the important matter of adding to the +manuscript of his philosophical biography of the Marquis Lafayette. + +"Perhaps I should see Bonbright," he suggested. + +"No," said Mrs. Foote. "He must come to you. He's got to have all his +wildness crushed out of him. He'll come. He must have had enough of +it before this." + +But Bonbright did not come, showed no signs of coming, and Mr. Foote +grew impatient, so impatient that he disregarded his wife's advice. +He could not bring his pride to allow him to seek out Bonbright in +person, but sent Rangar as his ambassador. + +Rangar found Bonbright in his room, reading a book devoted to the +ailments of the internal-combustion engine, and acquitted himself of +his mission with that degree of diplomacy which his desire for +success dictated. + +"Well?" said Bonbright, as the door opened to admit the ambassador. + +"Your father sent me, Mr. Foote." + +"Yes." + +"He has heard that--er--the marriage which caused your--er-- +estrangement has ended as he feared." + +Bonbright arose slowly and walked toward Rangar, who appeared in two +minds whether to remain or to depart to other places. + +"Tell my father," Bonbright said, "that I can appreciate his +satisfaction. Tell him also that if he has anything to say to me to +say it in person.... That is all." + +"Your father--" + +"That is all," repeated Bonbright, and Rangar made up his mind. He +slammed the door after him. + +In the morning he reported to Mr. Foote, who compressed his lips at +the recitation of his son's words. Let his son come to him, then, +when he had eaten his fill of husks. + +But Bonbright did not come. After several days had elapsed Mr. Foote +considered his duty, and interpreted it to impel him to call in +person upon his son--clothed in dignity and with the demeanor of +outraged parenthood. Mrs. Foote was not privy to the project. + +He met his son descending the steps of the house where he boarded. +Bonbright could not have evaded his father if he would. He stopped +and waited for his father to speak. + +"I have come to talk to you, Bonbright," he said, severely. + +"Very well, sir," Bonbright said. + +"I have come, not from inclination or delight in an interview which +must be distasteful to both of us, but because I believe it my duty +to point out the thanklessness of your conduct and to see if you +cannot be brought to a proper sense of your obligations." + +"Our ideas of my obligations are rather far apart, sir." + +"They shouldn't be. You're a mere boy--my son. You should derive your +ideas from me until you are capable of formulating correct ideas +yourself." + +"I'm afraid we can never agree on that," said Bonbright, patiently. + +"Your marriage has ended the way such marriages are fated to end," +said Mr. Foote. + +"We will not discuss that, please," said Bonbright. + +"You made your own bed--" + +"And am not complaining about the discomfort of it." + +"It is essential that you return to your duty. Your unpleasant +experience is over. You are old enough to understand your position as +my son, and the responsibilities and duties of it. You are Bonbright +Foote VII and the future head of our family. I am being very patient +and lenient with you.... You have defied me openly, but I am willing +to overlook that, and I am sure your mother will overlook your +conduct toward her, providing you return to your place in a frame of +mind proper for my son. I think you understand what that is." + +"Perfectly, sir. It means to be jammed back in a mold that will turn +me out to the family pattern. It means a willingness to give up +thinking for myself and accept YOUR thoughts and shape my life by +them. It means being a figurehead as long as you live and a replica +of yourself when you are gone. That's it, isn't it?" + +"That is it," said Mr. Foote, shortly. "You are rid of that woman. +... I am willing to give you another chance." + +Bonbright's hold upon himself was firm. "If you wish to continue this +conversation you will not speak in that way of my wife. Let me make +that very clear.... As to coming back to the office--there is +nothing under heaven that would bring me back to what I escaped from. +Nothing.... If I were ever to come it would have to be on terms of +my own making, and you would never agree to them. And whatever terms +you agreed to I should not come until you and mother--both of you-- +went to my wife and made the most complete apology for the thing you +did to her in the theater that night.... I am not thinking of +myself. I am thinking of her. My mother and father passed my wife and +myself on our wedding night, in a public place, and refused to +recognize us.... It was barbarous." Bonbright's voice quivered a +trifle, but he held himself well in hand. "That apology must come +before anything else. After you have made it, we will discuss terms." + +"You--you--" Mr. Foote was perilously close to losing his dignity. + +"No," said Bonbright; "on second thought, we will not discuss terms. +You can have my final reply now.... You have nothing to give me that +will take the place of what I have now. I will not come back to you. +Please understand that this is final." + +Mr. Foote was speechless. It was moments before he could speak; then +it was to say, in a voice that trembled with rage: "In the morning I +shall make my will--and your name will not appear in it except as a +renegade son whom I have disowned..., Probably you regarded the +property as under entail and that it would come to you after me.... +For six generations it has gone from father to son. You shall never +touch a penny of it." + +"I prefer it that way, sir." + +Mr. Foote glared at his son in quite unrestrained, uncultured rage, +and, whirling on his heel, strode furiously away. Bonbright looked +after him curiously. + +"I wonder how the thing missed out with me," he thought. "It worked +perfectly six generations--and then went all to smash with me.... +Probably I'd have been a lot happier...." + +It had been a month since he saw Ruth. He had not wanted to see her; +the thought of seeing her had been unbearable. But suddenly he felt +as if he must see her--have a glimpse of her. He must see how she +looked, if she had changed, if she were well.... He knew it would +bring refreshed suffering. It would let back all he had rigidly +schooled himself to shut out--but he must see her. + +He set his will against it and resolutely walked away from the +direction in which her apartment lay, but the thing was too strong +for him. As a man surrenders to a craving which he knows will destroy +him, yet feels a relief at the surrender, he turned abruptly and +walked the other way. + +The apartment in which they had lived was on the second floor of a +small apartment house. He passed it on the opposite side of the +street, looking covertly upward at the windows. There was a light +within. She was there, but invisible. Only if she should step near +the window could he see her.... Again and again he passed, but she +did not appear. Finally he settled himself guiltily in the shadows, +where he could watch those windows, and waited--just for that distant +sight of her. There was a lamp on the table before the window. Before +she retired she would have to come to shut it off.... He waited for +that. He would then see her for a second, perhaps. + +At last she came, and stood an instant in the window--just a blur, +with the light behind her, no feature distinguishable, yet it was +her--her. "Ruth..." he whispered, "Ruth...." Then she drew down the +shade and extinguished the light. + +For a moment he stood there, hands opened as if he would have +stretched them out toward her. Then he turned and walked heavily +away. He had seen her, but It had not added to his happiness. He had +seen her because he must see her.... And by that he knew he must see +her again and again and again. He knew it. He knew he would stand +there in the shadows on innumerable nights, watching for that one +brief second of her presence.... And she loved another man. In a +year she would be free to marry Dulac! + +He returned to his room and to his book on the ailments of internal- +combustion engines; but it was not their diagrams his eyes saw, but +only a featureless blur that represented a girl standing in an upper +window---forever beyond his reach.... + + + + +CHAPTER XXVII + + +Malcolm Lightener's plant, huge as it was, could not meet the demands +of the public for the car he manufactured. Orders outran production. +New buildings had been under construction, but before they were +completed and equipped their added production was eaten up and the +factory was no nearer to keeping supply abreast with demand than it +had been in the beginning. + +Lightener was forced to make contracts with other firms for parts of +his cars. From one plant he contracted for bodies, from another for +wheels. He urged Bonbright Foote, Incorporated, to increase their +production of axles by ten thousand a year--and still dealers in all +parts of the country wrote and telephoned and telegraphed for more +cars--more cars. + +Hitherto Lightener had made his own engines complete. From outside +manufactories he could obtain the other essential parts, but his own +production of engines held him back. The only solution for the +present was to find some one to make engines to his specifications, +and he turned to Bonbright Foote, Incorporated. Whatever might be +said of the Foote methods, their antiquity, their lack of modern +efficiency, they turned out work whose quality none might challenge-- +and Malcolm Lightener looked first to quality. + +He reached his determination at noon, while he was eating his +luncheon, and to Mrs. Lightener's amazement sprang up from the table +and lunged out of the room without so much as a glance at her or a +word of good-by. In some men of affairs this might not be remarkable, +but in Malcolm Lightener it was remarkable. Granite he might be; +crude in his manner, perhaps, more dynamic than comfortable, but in +all the years of his married life he had never left the house without +kissing his wife good-by. + +He drove his runabout recklessly to his office, rushed into the +engineering department, and snatched certain blue prints and +specifications from the files. He knew costs down to the last bolt or +washer on the machine he made, and it was the work of minutes only to +determine what price he could afford to pay for the engines he +wanted. + +His runabout carried him to the entrance to Bonbright Foote, +Incorporated, and he hurried up the stairs to the office. + +"Mr. Foote in?" he snapped. + +"Just returned, Mr. Lightener." + +"Want to see him--right off--quick." + +"Yes, sir." + +The girl at the switchboard called Mr. Foote and informed him. + +"He says to step right in, sir," she said, and before she was done +speaking Lightener was on his way down the corridor. + +Mr. Foote sat coldly behind his desk. He held no kindness for Malcolm +Lightener, for Lightener had befriended Bonbright in his +recalcitrancy. Lightener had made it possible for the boy to defy his +father. Lightener's wife and daughter had openly waged society war +against his wife in behalf of his son's wife.... But Mr. Foote was +not the man to throw away an enormous and profitable business because +of a personal grudge. + +Lightener paused for no preliminaries. + +"Foote," he said, "I want ten thousand engines complete. You can make +'em. You've got room to expand, and I can give you approximate +figures on the costs. You make good axles and you can make good +engines. What d'you think about it?" + +Mr. Foote shrugged his shoulders. "It doesn't attract me." + +"Huh!... You can have that plant up in six months. I'll give you a +contract for five years. Two years' profits will pay for the plant. +Don't know what your profits are now, but this ought to double them. +... Doesn't half a million a year extra profit make you think of +anything?" + +"Mr. Lightener, this business was originally a machine shop. It has +grown and developed since the first Bonbright Foote founded it. I am +the first to deviate in any measure from the original plan, and I +have done so with doubt and reluctancy. I have seen with some regret +the manufacturing of axles overshadow the original business--though +it has been profitable, I admit. But I shall go no farther. I am not +sure my father and my grandfather would approve of what I have done. +I know they would not approve of other changes.... More money does +not attract me. This plant is making enough for me. What I want is +more leisure. I wish more time to devote to a certain literary labor +upon which I have been engaged..." + +"Literary flub-dub," said Lightener. "I'm offering you half a million +a year on a silver platter." + +"I don't want it, sir.... I am not a young man. I have not been in +the best of health--owing, perhaps, to worries which I should not have +been compelled to bear.... I am childless. With me Bonbright Foote, +Incorporated, comes to an end. Upon my death these mills close, the +business is to be liquidated and discontinued. Do I make myself +clear?... I am not interested in your engines." + +"What's that you said?" Lightener asked. "Childless? Wind up this +business? You're crazy, man." + +"I had a son, but I have one no longer.... In some measure I hold +you responsible for that. You have taken sides with a disobedient son +against his father..." + +"And you've treated a mighty fine son like a dog," said Lightener, +harshly. + +"I have done my duty.... I do not care to discuss it with you. The +fact I want to impress is that my family becomes extinct upon my +death. My wife will be more than amply provided for. I may live ten +years or twenty years--but I shall live them in such comfort as I can +obtain.... Is there anything else you wish to talk to me about?" + +It was a dismissal, and Malcolm Lightener was not used to being +dismissed like a troublesome book agent. + +"Yes," he said, getting to his feet. "There is something, and I'll be +short and sweet about it. You have a son, and if I'm any judge, he's +about four times the man his father is. You don't want him!... Well, +I do. I want him in my business, and he won't lose such a lot by the +change. It's your ledger that shows the loss, and don't you forget +it. You did what you could to warp him out of shape--and because he +wouldn't be warped you kicked him out. Maybe the family ends with +you, but a new Foote family begins with him, and it won't be any cut- +and-dried, ancestor-ridden outfit, either. One generation of his kind +will be worth more to this country than the whole six of yours.... I +hope you live to see it." + +Lightener stuffed his blue prints and specifications into his pocket +and left the office truculently. Once more in his own office he +summoned a boy. + +"Fetch Mr. Foote from the purchasing department," he said. + +Malcolm Lightener was acting on impulse again. He had no clear idea +why he had sent for Bonbright, nor just what he should say when the +boy came--but he wanted to talk to him. Lightener was angry--angry +because Bonbright's father had rejected his proposition to +manufacture engines; more angry at the way Mr. Foote had spoken +concerning his son. In the back of Lightener's mind was the thought +that he would show a Foote.... Just what he would show him was not +determined. + +Bonbright came in. He was not the Bonbright of six months before. The +boy in him was gone, never to return. He had lost none of his old +look of breeding, of refinement, of blood--but he had lost that air +which rich young men bear about with them. It is an air, not of +carelessness, precisely, but of absence of care; a sort of +nonchalance, bred of lack of responsibilities and of definite +ambitions. It is an air that makes one think of them that they would +fit better into the scenery of a country club or a game of golf than +into an office where men strain their intelligence and their bodies +to attain important aims. This was gone with his boyishness. In its +place was an alertness, an awakeness, born of an interest in affairs. +His eyes were the eyes of a man who concentrated much, and was keenly +interested in the object of his concentration. His movements were +quicker. He seemed to see and catalogue more of what was going on +about him. If one had seen him then for the first time, the +impression received would have been that here was a very busy young +man who was worth watching. There was something aggressive about him. +He looked competent. + +One could not question that his new life had improved him, but it had +not made him happy. It would be absurd to say that he looked sad. A +boy of his age cannot look sad continually, unless sadness is a pose +with him, which he is enjoying very much indeed. But Bonbright was no +poser.... And he did not look happy. There were even times when +there was a worn, haggard look about his eyes when he came down in +the morning. This was when he had allowed himself to think too much. + +"Just came from your father's office," said Lightener. "I offered him +a chance to clean up half a million a year--and he turned it down... +because his great-grandfather might not like it." + +Bonbright understood perfectly. He knew how his father would do such +a thing. Lightener's statement seemed to call for no reply, so he +made none. + +"I wanted to look at you," said Lightener, "to make sure you aren't +anything like him.... But you ARE like him. You stand like him and +you look like him--only you don't. If I thought you'd grow to think +the way he does I'd send you to the cashier for your pay, in a +second. But I don't believe it." He scowled at Bonbright. "No, by +Jove! you don't LOOK it." + +"I don't think father and I are much alike," said Bonbright, slowly. + +Lightener switched the subject. "You ought to know considerable about +this business. Been here six months. From what I hear you've picked +up quite a lot outside of office hours." + +"I've been studying hard. It gave me something to do." + +"Darn it all, why couldn't you and Hilda have taken to each +other!..." Lightener stopped, and stared at his desk. Perhaps it was +not too late yet. Bonbright's marriage had been no success; Bonbright +was young; and it was not thinkable that he would not recover from +that wound in time to marry again. Of course he would.... Then why +should he not marry Hilda? Not the least reason in the world. In the +affair Bonbright was guiltless--merely unfortunate. The thing was +worth bearing in mind. Perhaps something might be done; at any rate, +he would talk it over with his wife. + +"I want you to put in another six months learning this business," he +said. "If you pan out I'll have a job for you.... I haven't heard of +your falling down any place yet.... Know what I told your father? He +said the Foote family ended with him--became extinct. Well, I said +the family just started with you, and that one generation of your +kind was worth the whole six of his. And I hoped he lived to see it." + +"Somehow I can't feel very hard toward father, Mr. Lightener. +Sometimes I'm--sorry for him. To him it's as bad as if I'd been born +with a hunchback. Worse, maybe, because, hunchback and all, I might +have been the sort he wanted.... He doesn't understand, that's it. I +can understand him--so I don't have any hard feelings-except on HER +account.... He said the family was extinct?" + +"Yes." + +"I guess it is," said Bonbright. "The family, as he thought of it, +meant something that went on and on as he and his ancestors went.... +Yes, it's extinct. I don't know why I was different from them, but I +was. Always. I'm glad." + +"He must be worth five millions, anyhow, maybe more." + +"I don't know," said Bonbright. + +"You won't get a cent of it, from what he says." + +"I suppose not.... No, I won't get a cent." + +"You don't make much fuss about it." + +"I had that out with myself six months ago. It was hard to give it +up.... Nobody wants to be poor when he can be rich. If it hadn't +been for Ruth I suppose I should have been there yet--pretty well +made over to fit by this time." + +As Bonbright and Malcolm Lightener talked, Mr. Foote sat in his +office, his head upon his desk, one arm stretched out across the +blotter, the other shielding his face. He did not move.... + +After Malcolm Lightener left the room he had sat for a time staring +at the door. He did not feel well. He was troubled. None but himself +knew how deep was his disappointment, his bitterness, because of his +son's failure to stand true to his type. It was not the grief of a +father at the loss of a son; it was the suffering of a man whose +supreme motive is the carrying on of family and of family traditions. +He had just told Lightener the family became extinct with his +passing. Now he reaffirmed it, and, reaffirming it, he felt the agony +of ultimate affliction. + +Six generations the family and the family's business had endured +honorably according to its beliefs and tenets; with the sixth +generation it ended because of the way-wardness of a boy--his boy! + +Mr. Foote felt a trifle dizzy, a bit oppressed. He leaned back in his +chair and shut his eyes. He would go home for the day as soon as the +dizziness passed, he said to himself.... It passed. He opened his +eyes and leaned toward his desk, but he stopped suddenly, his right +hand flying to his breast. There was a sudden pain there; such a pain +as he had never experienced before. It was near his heart. With each +heartbeat there came a twisting stab of agony. Presently the spasm +passed, and he sank back, pale, shaking, his forehead damp with +clammy moisture.... He tried to pull himself together. Perhaps it +would be best to summon some one, but he did not want to do that. To +have an employee find him so would be an invasion of his dignity. +Nobody must see him. Nobody must know about this.... + +The spasm returned-departed again, leaving him gasping for breath. +... It would come again. Something told him it would come again-once +more. He KNEW.... A third time it would come, but never again. + +He forced himself to rise. He would meet it standing. For the honor +of the Foote family he would meet it on his feet, looking into its +eyes. He would not shrink and cringe from it, but would face it with +dignity as a Foote should face it, uttering no cry of pain or fear. +It was a dignified moment, the most dignified and awful of his life. +... Five generations were looking on to see how he met it, and he was +conscious of their eyes. He stared before him with level eyes, +forcing a smile, and waited the seconds there remained to wait. + +It was coming. He could feel its first approach, and drew himself up +to the fullness of his slender height. Never had he looked so much a +Foote as in that instant, never had he so nearly approached the ideal +he had set for himself--for he knew. + +The spasm came, but it tore no cry from him. He stood erect, with +eyes that stared straight before him fearlessly until they became +sightless. He held his head erect proudly.... Then he sighed, +relaxed into his chair, and lay across his desk, one arm +outstretched, the other protecting his face.... + +The telephone on Malcolm Lightener's desk rang. + +"Hello!" said Lightener. "What is it? Who?... Yes, he's right here." +He looked up to Bonbright. "Somebody wants to speak to you." + +Bonbright stepped to the instrument. "Yes," he said, "this is +Bonbright Foote.... Who is it? Rangar?..." Suddenly he turned about +and faced Malcolm Lightener blankly. He fumbled with the receiver for +its hook. "My father is dead," he said, in a hushed voice. "They just +found him--at his desk...." + + + + +CHAPTER XXVIII + + +Ruth had continued to live in the apartment. It had not been her +intention to do so. From the moment of reading Bonbright's succinct +note she was determined to go back to the little cottage and to her +mother. But she put it off for a day, then for another day, and days +grew into weeks and months. "To-morrow I'll move," she told herself +each night, but next day she was no nearer to uprooting herself than +she had been the day before. + +She gave herself no reasons for remaining. If she had been asked for +a reason she might have said it was because Dulac still boarded with +her mother. He had not left the city with the breaking of the strike, +but had remained. He had remained because he had asked the union he +represented to let him remain and had been able to show them reasons +for granting his request. He wanted to stay on the ground to work +quietly underground, undoing the harm that had been done by the +strike; quietly proselyting, preaching his gospel, gaining strength +day by day, until he should have reared an organization capable of +striking again. The courage of the man was unquenchable.... And he +wanted to be near Ruth. Just as he had set his will to force +Bonbright Foote, Incorporated, to bow to the will of the men, so he +had set his will to force Ruth to bow to his will.... So he remained +and labored. + +But his presence at her mother's was not the real reason that +impelled Ruth to continue in the home Bonbright had made for her. It +was something more intangible. She found the thought of leaving that +spot unendurable, but she did not, dared not, seek in her heart for +what made it unendurable. + +For a week she scarcely ventured outside the door; then the +loneliness, the lack of occupation, drove her out. She must be busy, +for when she sat idly in a room her thoughts became torture. There +were many sides to her affliction. First in her mind she placed the +failure of her great project. She had wrecked her life for it without +accomplishment. Second in the rank of her griefs stood the fact that +she had been on the point of giving herself to Dulac. She would have +gone with him, disregarding convention, breaking her vows of +marriage. For that she despised herself... despised herself the more +because she knew now that she did not love Dulac, that she had never +loved Dulac. That discovery had shocked and shaken her, and when she +thought of what might have happened if she had gone with him a +numbness of horror crept over her, leaving her cold and trembling. +... She would have gone, and she did not love him. She would not have +known she did not love him until it was too late to draw back... and +then she would have lived, but her soul would have died! + +She accused herself bitterly for mistaking glamour for love. She knew +now that Dulac had called from her nothing deeper than a foolish, +girlish fascination. His personality, his work, his enthusiasm had +enmeshed her, blinded her--and she had mistaken her feelings for +love! Of this she was certain.... There were moments when she felt +she must tell Bonbright. Once she actually took writing materials to +do so, but she did not tell him.... She wanted him to know, because, +she thought, it would be a sort of vindication in his eyes. But she +was wrong. She wanted him to know for quite another reason than that. + +Third in the order of her griefs was the consciousness that she had +caused Bonbright grief. She dealt ungently with herself because of +it, for Bonbright had not deserved it at her hands. She could +appreciate how good he had been to her, how solicitous, how patient, +how tender. If a man ever deserved well of a woman, he deserved it. +She told herself that a hundred times daily. She remembered small +thoughtfulnesses which had been a part of his daily conduct to her. +She recalled small forbearances. She pictured to herself the life +they had lived together, and saw how it was only the character of her +husband that had made it possible at all.... And in the end he had +not uttered one word of censure; had not even looked at her with just +anger.... There had been no pretense about him, no labored effort to +be kind. He had simply been himself. + +These were her thoughts; this is how she remembered him.... + +The house was unbearably lonely. As evening approached she found +herself more than once listening for Bonbright's step on the stairs +and his hand on the door.... At such times she cried. She puzzled +herself. She did not understand why she should be so lonely, nor why +the expectation of Bonbright's step--with quick awakening to the +knowledge that no foot of his would ever sound at her door again-- +should bring her tears.... She knew she should have been glad, +relieved. With Bonbright she had lived in daily dread. She had not +loved him, and the fear that his restraint would break, that he would +force his love upon her, had made her days a ghastly dream.... She +should be crying out with the joy and relief of his removal. But she +felt no relief, felt no joy.... She could not understand it. + +If Hilda Lightener, who came often and stayed long, had asked her if +she missed Bonbright or were lonely without him, she would have +denied it hotly. But Hilda did not ask.... Ruth did not ask that +question of herself. She knew she was lonely, miserable, and she +thought she knew why--but Bonbright's absence had nothing to do with +it. + +Hilda watched, she did not talk about Bonbright, for she saw her task +was to help Ruth over these first few days. Her suspicions were her +own, but, being a woman, she understood the baffling psychology of +another woman and what harm a premature word might work.... If the +thing she believed were true, then time would bring its realization +to Ruth. Ruth must discover the truth for herself.... + +"I can't stand this," Ruth said one evening. "I can't bear to stay +here alone in these rooms. If there were work enough to keep me busy +--but there's nothing." + +"If you'd only go the places I ask you to," said Hilda. + +"I don't want to meet people--your sort of people. They must know +what has happened.... I couldn't have them looking at me with their +catty, curious eyes." + +"Most of them would be very kind," Hilda said. + +"No.... I'm going to work. I'm going to find a place and work...." + +"But--" Hilda wondered what Bonbright would think of that. She +imagined he would not like it. + +"I know what you were going to say. He wouldn't want me to. Maybe he +wouldn't--but if he knew he'd let me do it. I tell you I've got to, +Hilda." + +"You've got to decide for yourself," Hilda admitted, so Ruth became a +job hunter, and because intelligent stenographers are by no means as +plentiful as daisies in a July field, she was not long in finding +employment.... From that day life was easier. She found her wages +were ample to support herself and pay the rent of her apartment. +Ample, in that they sufficed. There was no surplus. So she folded and +put away the weekly checks she received from Bonbright. She did not +send them back to him because, to her mind, that would have been a +weekly slap in his face. But she would not cash them. There was a +difference to her; probably there was a real difference. + +Of a Sunday Ruth often went driving with Hilda, and Hilda noticed how +closely her companion watched the sidewalks, how she scrutinized the +passing crowds. It was as though Ruth were trying to catch sight of +somebody.... While daylight lasted Hilda saw that Ruth was drawn to +her windows to sit looking down at the street. Once Hilda ventured +dangerously. + +"Why do you always sit there watching folks go by?" she asked. + +Ruth turned and looked at her strangely. "I--why, I don't know," she +said. + +Of herself Ruth rarely mentioned Bonbright; never unless in some +recollection of him, or if Hilda meddled with some portion of the +household that had been peculiarly Bonbright's. As, for instance: + +"Why don't you move that leather chair out of the other bedroom?" +Hilda asked. "It's doing no good there and it looks mighty +comfortable." + +"That was HIS chair," Ruth said, quickly. "He used to sit there and +read after--after I had gone to bed." + +Once Ruth asked for news of Bonbright. After that Hilda brought her +news voluntarily. Not too frequently, but often enough according to +her notion. Betweentimes she gave Ruth plenty of time to wonder what +was happening to her husband. Ruth knew Hilda saw him often. She +wondered if they talked about her, and what they said, but that she +never asked, nor did Hilda refer to such conversations. Indeed, these +were few and sparing, for Bonbright could not be made to talk about +his wife--even to her. But she gave Bonbright news of Ruth just as +she gave Ruth news of Bonbright. + +Sometimes Hilda tormented Ruth with set purpose. + +"Bonbright looks mighty thin," she said. "I think he's working too +hard. If he keeps it up he'll make himself sick." + +"Oh..." said Ruth--nothing more, but for the rest of that Sunday she +was quiet--very quiet. + +Once Hilda found Ruth in a passion of tears, and when she sought the +reason she learned that Ruth had met Dulac on the street, face to +face, and that he had spoken to her. He had told Ruth that he was +staying in the city because of her; that he would not go without her. +... He had been careless of listening ears, not concealing his +emotions. + +"Well, he didn't hurt you, did he?" + +"No," said Ruth. + +"You weren't afraid of him?" + +"No." + +"You--didn't want to go away with him?" + +"No.... No...." + +"Then what are you making all the fuss about? He can't carry you off" + +'HE might have seen us together," said Ruth. "And--and it made me-- +remember--that horrid afternoon." + +"What if Bonbright did see you together? Don't you suppose Bonbright +thinks you are seeing him? Of course he does. What else would he +think? Naturally he supposes you are going to have your divorce when +the year is up, and marry Mr. Dulac." Hilda was merciless. + +"Does he think that? Are you sure?" + +Hilda shrugged her shoulders. + +"He mustn't think it," Ruth said, affrightedly. "Why, he--If he +thought that--" + +"If he thought that--what?" + +Ruth bit her lips and turned away. "Nothing," she said. Then: "Can't +you let him know?... Not tell him, you know, but--sort of let him +understand." + +"If I can see a good chance," Hilda said; but in her mind was the +resolution that she would never see the chance. + +"Does he--seem cheerful?" Ruth asked. "It's been quite a long time +now--months.... He--must have gotten over--caring for me now. Do you +think so?" Her voice was anxious, pleading. + +Hilda could not hold out against that appeal. "No, silly, he hasn't. +He isn't that sort.... It's too bad." + +"Yes--it's too bad," said Ruth, but it was not sympathy that put the +tiny thrill into her voice. + +"He's just a boy.... He can't go on all his life loving a girl that +doesn't want him. Some day he's going to fall in love again. It's +natural he should." + +"Has he--Do you think--" + +"No, I haven't seen any signs of it yet.... And I'd be jealous if he +did. I think I could manage to fall in love with him myself if--" + +"--he wasn't tied to me," interrupted Ruth, with a little whimper. +"I--I wish he knew--about Mr. Dulac.... He wouldn't think so--hard +of me, maybe... if he knew I didn't--never did--love Mr. Dulac...." + +"The only thing that would make any difference to him would be to +know that you loved him," said Hilda. + +Ruth had no answer, but she was saying to herself, with a sort of +secret surprise: "If I loved him.... If I loved him...." Presently +she spoke aloud: "You won't be angry with me, Hilda?... You won't +misunderstand, but--but won't you please--go away?... Please.... I-- +I don't want to see anybody. I want to be alone." + +"Well, of all things!" said Hilda. But she was not offended. Her +resemblance to her father was very faint indeed, at that moment. She +looked more like her mother, softer, more motherly. She put on her +hat and went away quietly. "Poor Bonbright!" she was thinking. Then: +"It's come to her.... She's got a hint of it. It will come now with +a rush...." + +Ruth sat in her chair without movement. "If I loved him..." she said, +aloud, and then repeated it, "... loved him...." She was questioning +herself now, asking herself the meaning of things, of why she had +been lonely, of why she had sat in her window peering down into the +street--and she found the answer. As Hilda had said in her thoughts, +it was coming with a rush.... She was frightened by it, dared not +admit it.... She dared not admit that the biggest, weightiest of her +woes was that she no longer had Bonbright with her; that she was +lonesome for him; that her heart had been crying out for him; that +she loved him! She dared not admit that. It would be too bitter, too +ironically bitter.... If she loved him now she had loved him then! +Was her life to be filled with such ironies--? Was she forever to eat +of Dead Sea fruit? + +Did she love Bonbright? At last she dared to put the question +squarely.... Her answer came quickly. "Oh, I do... I do!" she cried, +aloud. "I love him...." A surge of happiness welled up from her +heart at the words. "I love him," she repeated, to hear the sound of +them again. + +The happiness was of short life. "I love him--but it's too late.... +It's always too late," she sobbed. "I've lost him.... He's gone. +..." + +The girl who could give herself to a man she did not love for the +Cause was not weak; she did not lack resolution, nor did she lack the +sublimity of soul which is the heritage of women. She had lost her +happiness; she had wrecked her life, and until this moment there +seemed no possibility of recovering anything from the wreckage.... +But she loved.... There was a foundation to build from. If she had +been weak, a waverer, no structure could have risen on the +foundation; it must have lain futile, accusing. But there was +strength in her, humility, a will that would dare much, suffer much, +to fight its way to peace. + +"If he loves me still," she thought; and there hope was born. + +"If I go to him.... If I tell him--everything?" she asked herself, +and in asking made her resolution. She would venture, she would dare, +for her happiness and for his. She would go, and she would say: +"Bonbright, I love you.... I have never loved anybody but you.... +You must believe me." He would believe her, she knew. There was no +reason why he should not believe her. There was nothing for her to +gain now by another lie. "I'll make him believe," she said, and +smiled and cried and smiled again. "Hilda will tell me where he lives +and I'll go to him--now...." + +At that instant Hilda was coming to her, was on the stairs, and Hilda +looked grave, troubled. She walked slowly up the stairs and rapped on +the door. "Ruth," she called, "it's Hilda.... May I come in now?" + +Ruth ran to the door and threw it open. "Come in.... Come in." Her +voice was a song. "Oh, Hilda..." + +"Honey," said Hilda, holding her at arm's length, '-his father is +dead. They found him dead just after noon...." + +"Oh!..." said Ruth. It was an instant before the full significance of +this news was shown to her. Then she clutched Hilda with terror- +stricken fingers. "No.... No!..." she cried. "It can't be.... It +mustn't be...." + +"Why--what is it? I--I didn't think you'd take it like this...." + +"I love him.... I love Bonbright," Ruth said, in a blank, dead +voice. "I was going to him.... I was going to tell him... and he +would have believed. But now---he wouldn't believe. He would think I +came--because his father was dead--because he--he was what I thought +he was when I married him.... Don't you see? He'd think I was coming +to him for the same reason.... He'd think I was willing to give +myself to him--for that...." + +Hilda took the slight form in her arms and rocked her to and fro, +while she thought.... "Yes," she said, sorrowfully, "you can't go to +him now.... It would look--oh, why couldn't his father have made a +will, as he was going to?... If he'd left his old money to charity or +something.... We thought he had.... But there has been no will. +Everything is Bonbright's...." + +"I'm always--too--late..." Ruth said, quietly. + + + + +CHAPTER XXIX + + +Bonbright was in his own home again--in the house that had been his +father's, and that was now his. He stood in the room that had been +his since babyhood. He had not thought to stand there again, nor did +he know that the room and the house were his own. He had come from +the shops but a half hour before; had come from that room where his +father lay across his desk, one arm outstretched, the other shielding +his face. There had been no time to think then; no time to realize. +... What thought had come to him was one of wonder that the death of +his father could mean so little to him. Shock he felt, but not grief. +He had not loved his father. Yet a father is a vital thing in a son's +life. Bonbright felt this. He knew that the departing of a father +should stand as one of the milestones of life, marking a great +change. It marked no change for him. Everything would go on as it had +gone--even on the material side. It was inevitable that he should +remember his father's threat to disinherit him. Now the thing had +come--and it made little difference, for Bonbright had laid out his +life along lines of his own.... His father would be carried to the +grave, would disappear from the scene--that was all. + +He saw that the things were done which had to be done, and went home +to his mother, dreading the meeting. He need not have dreaded it, for +she met him with no signs of grief. If she felt grief she hid it +well. She was calm, stately, grave--but her eyes were not red with +weeping nor was her face drawn with woe. He wondered if his father +meant as little to his father's wife as it did to his father's son. +It seemed so. There had been no affectionate passage between +Bonbright and his mother. She had not unbent to him. He had hardly +expected her to, though he had been prepared to respond.... + +Now he was in his room with time to think--and there was strangely +little to think of. He had covered the ground already. His father was +dead. When Bonbright uttered that sentence he had covered the episode +completely. That was it--it was an EPISODE. + +A servant came to the door. + +"Mr. Richmond wishes to speak with you on the phone, Mr. Bonbright," +the man said, and Bonbright walked to the instrument. Richmond had +been his father's counsel for many years. + +"Bonbright?" asked Mr. Richmond. + +"Yes." + +"I have just had the news. I am shocked. It is a terrible thing." + +"Yes," said Bonbright. + +"I will come up at once--if you can see me. The death of a man like +your father entails certain consequences which cannot be considered +too soon. May I come?" + +"If you think it is necessary," said Bonbright. + +"It is necessary," said Mr. Richmond. + +In twenty minutes Richmond was announced and Bonbright went to meet +him in the library. Richmond extended his hand with the appropriate +bearing for such an occasion. His handshake was a perfect thing, +studied, rehearsed, just as all his life was studied and rehearsed. +He had in stock a manner and a handshake and a demeanor which could +be instantly taken off the shelf and used for any situation which +might arise. Richmond was a ready man, an able man. On the whole, he +was a good man, as men go, but cut and dried. + +"Your father was a notable man," he declared. "He will be missed." + +Bonbright bowed. + +"There will be a great deal for you to look after," said the lawyer, +"so I will be brief. The mass of detail can wait--until after--er-- +until you have more leisure." + +"I think, Mr. Richmond, it is my mother you wish to see, not myself. +I thought you would understand my position. I am surprised that you +do not, since you have been so close to my father.... My father and +I did not agree on matters which both of us considered vital. There +were differences which could not be abridged. So I am here merely as +his son, not as his successor in any way." + +"I don't understand." + +"My father," said Bonbright, with a trace of impatience, "disowned +me, and--disinherited, I believe, is the word--disinherited me." + +"Oh no! No!... Indeed no! You are laboring under a misapprehension. +... You are mistaken. I am glad to be able to relieve your mind on +that point. Nothing of the sort was done. I am in a position to know. +... I will admit your father discussed such action, but the matter +went no farther. Perhaps it was his intention to do as you say, but +he put it off.... He seemed to have a prejudice against making a +will. As a matter of fact, he died intestate..." + +"You mean--" + +"I mean that your father's wealth--and it was considerable, sir--will +be disposed of according to the statutes of Descent and Distribution. +In other words, having failed to dispose of his property by +testament, the law directs its disposition. With the exception of +certain dower rights the whole vests in yourself." + +Here was something to think of. Here was a new and astounding set of +circumstances to which he must adapt himself.... He experienced no +leap of exultation. The news left him cold. Queerly, his thoughts in +that moment were of Ruth and of her great plan. + +"If she had waited..." he thought. + +No, he was glad she had not waited. He did not want her that way.... +It was not her he wanted, but her love. He thought bitterly that he +would willingly exchange all that had become his for that one +possession. He could have anything--everything--he wanted now but +that.... + +"I am glad to be able to give you such news," said Mr. Richmond. + +"I was thinking of something else," said Bonbright. + +Richmond looked at the young man obliquely. He had heard that +Bonbright was queer. This rumor seemed not without foundation. +Richmond could not comprehend how a young man could think of anything +else when he had just learned that he was several tunes a +millionaire. + +"Sit down," said Bonbright. "This, of course, makes a difference." + +Richmond seated himself, and drew documents from his green bag. For +half an hour he discussed the legal aspects of the situation and +explained to Bonbright what steps must be taken at once. + +"I think that is all that will be necessary to-day," he said, +finally. + +"Very well.... There is no reason why affairs may not go on for a +couple of days as they are--as if father were alive?" + +"No, I see no reason why they should not." + +"Very well, then.... Will you see to it? The--the funeral will be on +Saturday. Monday I shall be in the office." + +"I hope you will call upon me for any assistance or advice you find +necessary.... Or for any service of whatsoever nature.... Good +afternoon.... Will you convey my sympathy to Mrs. Foote?" + +The rest of that day, and of the days that followed it, Bonbright was +trying to find the answer to the question, What does this mean to me? +and to its companion question, What shall I do with it? + +One paper Richmond had left in Bonbright's hands, as Richmond's +predecessors had left it in the hands of preceding Bonbright Footes. +It was a copy of the will of the first Bonbright Foote, and the basic +law, a sort of Salic law, a family pragmatic sanction for his +descendants, through time and eternity. It laid upon his descendants +the weight of his will with respect to the conduct of the business of +Bonbright Foote, Incorporated. Five generations had followed it +faithfully, deviating only as new conditions made deviation +necessary. It was all there, all set forth minutely. Bonbright could +visualize that first of his line from the reading of it--and he could +visualize his father. His father was the sort of man that will would +create.... He considered himself. He was not off that piece.... + +His father had tried to press him in the family mold, and he +remembered those unbearable days. Now, from his remote grave the +first Bonbright Foote reached out with the same mold and laid his +hands on the hope of the line.... Bonbright read the words many +times. His was the choice to obey or to disobey, to remain an +individual, distinct and separate from all other individuals since +the world began, or to become the sixth reincarnation of Bonbright +Foote I.... The day following his father's burial he chose, not +rashly in haste, nor without studied reason. To others the decision +might not have seemed momentous; to Bonbright it was epoch-marking. +It did mark an epoch in the history of the Foote family. It was the +Family's French Revolution. It was Martin Luther throwing his inkpot +at the devil--and overturning the ages. + +Bonbright's decision required physical expression. Most human +decisions require physical expression to give them effect. He had a +feeling as though six disembodied Bonbright Footes stood about in an +agony of anxiety, watching to see what he would do as he took the +emblematical paper in his hands. He tore it very slowly, tore it +again and again into ribbons and into squares, and let them flutter +into his wastebasket.... If others had been present to assert that +they heard a groan he would not have denied it, for the ancestors +were very real to him then... their presence was a definite fact. + +"There..." he said. The king was dead. Long live the king! + +It was after that he had his talk with his mother. Perhaps he was +abrupt, but he dreaded that talk. Perhaps his diplomacy was faulty or +lacking. Perhaps he made mistakes and failed to rise to the +requirements of the conditions and of his relationship with her. He +did his best. + +"Mother," he said, "we must talk things over." + +She sat silently, waiting for him to speak. + +"Whatever you wish," he said, "I shall do... if I can." + +"There is a qualification?" she said. + +"Suppose you tell me what you want done," he said. + +"I want you to come to your senses and realize your position," she +said, coldly. "I want you to get rid of that woman and, after a +decent interval, marry some suitable girl...." + +"I was discussing your affairs, mother, not mine. We will not refer +to my wife." + +"All I want," she said, "is what I am entitled to as your father's +widow." + +"This house, of course," he said. "You will want to stay here. I want +you to stay here." + +"And you?" + +"I prefer to live as I am." + +"You mean you do not care to come back here?" + +"Yes." + +"You must. I insist upon it. You have caused scandal enough now.... +People would talk." + +"Mother, we might as well understand each other at once. I am not +Bonbright Foote VII. Let that be clear. I am Bonbright Foote. I am +myself, an individual. The old way of doing things is gone.... +Perhaps you have heard of the family law--the first Bonbright's will. +... I have just torn it up." + +She compressed her lips and regarded him with hostility. Then she +shrugged her shoulders. + +"I suppose I must make the best of it. I realize I am powerless." She +realized it fully in that moment; realized that her son was a man, a +man with force and a will, and that it would be hopeless to try to +bring him to submit to her influence. "There is nothing for us to +discuss. I shall ask for what I need...." + +"Very well," he said, not coldly, not sharply, but sorrowfully. There +was no need to try to approach nearer to his mother. She did not +desire it. In her the motherly instinct did not appear. She had never +given birth to a son; what she had done was to provide her husband +with an heir, and, that being done, she was finished with the affair. +... + +He went from his mother to his own room, where he sat down at his +desk and wrote a brief letter to his wife. It was not so difficult to +compose as the other one had been, but it was equally succinct, +equally barren of emotion. Yet he was not barren of emotion as he +wrote it. + +MY DEAR RUTH [he said],-My father is dead. This makes a very material +change in my financial condition, and the weekly sum I have been +sending you becomes inadequate. Hereafter a suitable check will be +mailed you each week until the year expires. At that time I shall +make a settlement upon you which will be perfectly satisfactory. In +the meantime, should you require anything, you have but to notify me, +or, if you prefer, notify Mr. Manley Richmond, who will attend to it +immediately. + +This letter he mailed himself.... Not many days later it was +returned to him with "Not Found" stamped upon it in red ink. +Bonbright fancied there must be some error, so he sent it again by +messenger. The boy returned to report that the apartment was vacant +and that no one could furnish the present address of the lady who had +occupied it. Bonbright sent to Ruth's mother, who could only inform +him that Ruth had gone away, she did not know where, and such goings- +on she never saw, and why she should be asked to bear more than she +had borne was a mystery..-- + +There was but one conclusion for Bonbright. Ruth had been too +impatient to wait for the year to expire and had gone away with +Dulac.... + +Hilda could have corrected that belief, but he did not see Hilda, had +not seen her, for his new duties and new problems and +responsibilities occupied him many more hours a day than any labor +union or legislature would have permitted an employee to be required +to work. His hours of labor did not stop with the eighth nor with the +tenth.... There were days when they began with daylight and +continued almost to daylight again. + +Ruth had gone with Dulac.... She was hidden away. Not even Hilda +Lightener knew where she was, but Hilda knew why she had gone.... +There is an instinct in most animals and some humans which compels +them to hide away when they suffer wounds. Hilda knew Ruth had crept +away because she had suffered the hardest to bear of all wounds--and +crushing of hope.... + +She had gone the morning after Bonbright's father died, leaving no +word but that she was going, and she had not gone far. It is simple +to lose oneself in a city. One may merely move to the next ward and +be lost to one's friends. Only chance will cause a meeting, and Ruth +was determined to guard against that chance. + +She found a cheap, decent boarding house, among laboring people; she +found a new position... that was all. She had to live; to continue +was required of her, but it must be among strangers. She could face +existence where there were no pitying eyes; where there was none to +remind her of her husband.... She hid away with her love, and +coddled it and held it up for herself to see. She lived for it. It +was her life.... Even at her darkest moment she was glad she loved. +She devoted herself wholly to that love which had been discovered +just too late--which was not the wise nor the healthful thing to do, +as any physician could have informed her. + + + + +CHAPTER XXX + + +For a few days after the commencement of his reign Bonbright remained +quiescent. It was not through uncertainty, nor because he did not +know what he was going to do. It was because he wanted to be sure of +the best way of doing it. Very little of his time was spent in the +room that had been his father's and was now his own; he walked about +the plant, studying, scrutinizing, appraising, comparing. He did not +go about now as he had done with Rangar on the day his father +inducted him into the dignity of heir apparent and put a paper crown +on his head and a wooden scepter in his hand. + +He was aware that the men eyed him morosely. Bitterness was still +alive in their hearts, and the recollection of suffering fresh in +their minds. They still looked at him as a sort of person his father +had made him appear, and viewed his succession as a calamity. The old +regime had been bad enough, they told one another, but this young +man, with his ruthlessness, his heartlessness, with what seemed to be +a savage desire to trample workingmen into unresisting, unprotesting +submission--this would be intolerable. So they scowled at him, and in +their homes talked to their wives with apprehension of dark days +ahead. + +He felt their attitude. It could not be helped--yet. His work could +not be started with the men, it must start elsewhere. He would come +to the men later, in good time, in their proper order. + +His third morning in the office he had called Malcolm Lightener on +the telephone. + +"Is your proposition to manufacture ten thousand engines still open?" + +"Yes." + +"I'll take the contract--providing we can arrive at terms." + +"I'll send over blue prints and specifications--and my cost figures. +Probably our costs will be lower than yours...." + +"They won't be," said Bonbright, with a tightening of his jaw. "Can +you lend me Mershon for a while?" Mershon was Lightener's engineer, +the man who had designed and built his great plant. + +"I can't, but I will." + +"As soon as he can arrange it, please. I want to get started." + +"He'll be there in half an hour." + +Mershon came, a gray, beefy, heavy-faced man--with clear, keen, +seeing eyes. + +"Mr. Lightener has loaned you to me, Mr. Mershon. It was a tremendous +favor, for I know what you can do." + +Mershon nodded. He was a man who treasured up words. He must have had +a great store of them laid by, for in his fifty years he had used up +surprisingly few. + +"This is what I want," Bonbright said. "First, I want a plant +designed with a capacity of twenty thousand Lightener engines. You +designed Lightener's engine plant--so you're about the one man to +give me one that will turn out more engines with less labor and at +lower cost than his. That's what I want." + +Mershon's eyes lighted. "It will cost money," he said. + +"I'll find the money; you give me the plant," Bonbright said. "And +second, I want a survey made of this present plant. I know a lot of +it is junk, but I'm not competent to say how much. You will know what +to do. If I have to junk the whole outfit I'll do it. I don't want to +waste money, but I want these mills to be the equal of any mills in +the country.... Not only in efficiency, but as a place to work. I +want them safe. You will understand. I want the men considered. Give +them light and air. Wait till you see our wash rooms!" He shrugged +his shoulders. "It isn't enough to have the best machines," he said. +"I want the men to be able to do the best that's in them.... You +understand?" + +Mershon nodded. + +"The next room is yours." Bonbright pointed toward his old office, +the one it had been the family custom to close on the accession of +the heir apparent, and never to reopen until a new heir was ready to +take up his duties. He felt a sort of pleasure in this profanation. +"You'll find it large enough. If you need more room, ask for it.... +Get what assistants you need." + +"No more interruption of production than necessary," said Mershon. + +"Exactly.... And we need that new plant in a hurry. I've taken a +contract to make ten thousand engines for Mr. Lightener this year." + +It was that day that he called Rangar into the room. Rangar had been +uneasy, fearful, since his old employer had died. He had been an +important figure under the old order; a sort of shadow behind the +throne. He wondered what would happen to him now. More especially if +Bonbright had a notion of some of his duties under Bonbright's +father. He was not kept in suspense. + +"Mr. Rangar," said Bonbright, "I have been looking through the files. +Some of your duties have become clear to me. I was familiar with +others.... Perhaps my father required a man like yourself. I do not. +The old way of doing things here is gone, and you and I could not be +happy together. I shall direct the cashier to give you a check for +six months' salary..." + +"You mean--" + +"Exactly what I say." + +"But--you don't understand the business. Who is going to run it while +you learn?" + +"I don't want to know how this business was run. It's not going to be +run that way.... There's nothing you could teach me, Mr. Hangar.... +Good afternoon." + +Rangar went white with rage. Animosity toward this young man he had +harbored since the beginning; it flowered into hatred. But he dared +not voice it. It was not in Hangar's nature to be open, to fight +without cover. If he spoke, the check for six months' salary might be +withdrawn, so, uttering none of the venom that flooded to his lips, +he went away.... Rangar was the sort of man who vows to get even. +... + +That evening Bonbright sat in his window and watched the army of his +employees surge out of the big gate and fill the street. Five +thousand of them.... It was a sight that always fascinated him, as +it had that first evening when he saw them, and came to a realization +of what it meant to be overlord to such a multitude. More than ever +he realized it now--for he was their overlord. They were his men. It +was he who gave them the work that kept them alive; he who held their +happiness, their comfort, their very existence in the hollow of his +hand.... And he knew that in every one of those five thousand +breasts burned resentment toward him. He knew that their most +friendly feeling toward him was suspicion. + +It was easy to rebuild a plant; it was simple to construct new mills +with every device that would make for efficiency. That was not a +problem to awe him. It needed but the free expenditure of money, and +there was money in plenty.... But here was a task and a problem +whose difficulty and vastness filled him with misgiving. He must turn +that five thousand into one smooth-running, willing whole. He must +turn their resentment, their bitterness, their suspicion, into trust +and confidence. He must solve the problem of capital and labor.... +An older, more experienced man might have smiled at Bonbright--at his +daring to conceive such a possibility. But Bonbright dared to +conceive it; dared to set himself the task of bringing it about. + +That would be his work, peculiarly. No one could help him with it, +for it was personal, appertaining to him. It was between Bonbright +Foote and the five thousand. + +It was inevitable that he should feel bitterness toward his father, +for, but for his father, his work would now be enormously more +simple. If these men knew him as he was--knew of his interest in them, +of his willingness to be fair--he would have had their confidence from +the start. His father had made him appear a tyrant, without +consideration for labor; had made him a capitalist of the most +detestable type. It was a deep-seated impression. It had been proven. +The men had experienced it; had felt the weight of Bonbright's +ruthless hand.... How could he make them believe it was not his +hand? How could he make them believe that the measures taken to crush +the strike had not been his measures; that they had been carried out +under his name but against his will? It sounded absurd even to +himself. Nobody would believe it. + +Therefore he must begin, not at the beginning, but deeper than the +beginning. He could not start fairly, but under a handicap so great +as to make his chances of winning all but negligible.... It would be +useless to tell his men that he had been but a figurehead. For him +the only course was to blot out what had gone--to forget it--and to +start against odds to win their confidence. It would be better to let +them slowly come to believe he was a convert--that there had been a +revolution in his heart and mind. Indeed, there was no other way. He +must show them by daily studied conduct that he was not what they +feared he was.... + +He did not know what he was himself. His contact with Malcolm +Lightener's workingmen had given him certain sympathies with the +theories and hopes of labor; but they had made him certain of +fallacies and unsoundness in other theories and ambitions. He was not +the romantic type of wealthy young man who, in stories, meets the +under dog and loves him, and is suddenly converted from being an out- +and-out capitalist to the most radical of socialists. It was not in +him to be radical, for he was steadied by a quietly running balance +wheel.... He was stubborn, too. What he wanted was to be fair, to +give what was due--and to receive what was HIS due.... He could not +be swayed by mawkish sentimental sympathy, nor could he be bullied. +Perhaps he was stiff-necked, but he was a man who must judge of the +right or wrong of a condition himself. Perhaps he was too much that +way, but his experiences had made him so. + +If his men tried to bulldoze him they would find him immovable. What +he believed was right and just he would do; but he had his own set +notions of right and justice. He was sympathetic. His attitude toward +the five thousand was one of friendliness. He regarded them as a +charge and a responsibility. He was oppressed by the magnitude of the +responsibility.... But, on the other hand, he recognized that the +five thousand were under certain responsibilities and obligations to +him. He would do his part, but he would demand their part of them. + +His father had been against unions. Bonbright was against unions. His +reason for this attitude was not the reason of his father. It was +simply this: That he would not be dictated to by individuals who he +felt were meddling in his affairs. He had arrived at a definite +decision on this point: his mills should never be unionized.... If +his men had grievances he would meet with them individually, or +committees sent by them--committees of themselves. He would not treat +with so-called professional labor men. He regarded them as an +impertinence. Whatever differences should arise must be settled +between his men and himself--with no outside interference. This was a +position from which nothing would move him.... It will be seen he +was separated by vast spaces from socialism. + +He called together his superintendents and department foremen and +took them into his confidence regarding his plans for improving and +enlarging the plant. They came, if not with an air of hostility, at +least with reserve, for they were nearer to the men than they were to +Bonbright. They shared the prejudices of the men. Some of them went +away from the meeting with all of their old prejudices and with a new +belief that Bonbright added hypocrisy to his other vices; some +withheld judgment, some were hopeful. Few gave him implicit belief. + +When he was done describing the plans for the factory, he said: +"There is one more thing I want to speak about. It is as vital as the +other.... We have recently gone through a strike which has caused +bitterness toward this institution on the part of the men. There has +been especial bitterness toward myself. I have no defense of myself +to make. It is too late to do that. If any of you men know the facts- +-you know them. On that point I have nothing to say.... This is what +I want to impress on you men who are in authority. I want to be fair +to every man in this plant. I am going to give them a fit place to +work. Many parts of this plant are not now fit places. From every man +I shall demand a day's work for a day's pay, but no more. You are in +direct authority. I want each of you to treat his men with +consideration, and to have an eye for their welfare. Perhaps I shall +not be able to make the men feel toward me as I want them to feel, +but if it can be brought about, I want them to know that their +interests are my interests.... That is all, except that to-morrow +notices will be posted in every department stating that my office +door is open to any man who works for me--any man may come to me with +complaint or with suggestion at any time. The notices will state that +I want suggestions, and that any man who can bring me an idea that +will improve his work or the work in his department or in the plant +will be paid for it according to its value. In short, I want the co- +operation of every man who draws wages from this concern...." + +As they went back to their departments the men who left the meeting +discussed Bonbright, as he knew they would and hoped they would. + +"It's a four flush," declared one old fellow, hotly. + +"I don't know.... Wait and see," said another. "He looked like he +meant it." + +Wait and see! That was the general attitude. They took nothing on +trust, but put it squarely up to Bonbright to prove himself by his +actions. + +Mershon came into the office. "How about this construction work?" he +asked. "Need an army of bricklayers. What about the unions?" + +Was this question coming up so quickly? Bonbright frowned. His +attitude toward the unions must become public and would inevitably +raise another obstacle between himself and the men, but he was +determined on the point. + +"A man has a right to join the Masons or the Knights of Columbus, or +the Bricklayers' Union," he said, presently. "That's for him to say, +but when he comes to work here he comes as an individual." + +"Open shop?" + +"Yes." + +"You won't recognize any union? I want to know how I stand with them +at the beginning." + +"I'll recognize no union," said Bonbright. + +The card of a young man from Richmond's office was brought in. +Bonbright sent word for him to be admitted. + +"I came about that Hammil accident case," said the young man. "Hammil +was hurt yesterday, pretty badly, and the report makes it look as if +we'd be stuck if the thing goes to a jury." + +"I know nothing about it," said Bonbright, with a little shock. It +was possible, then, for a man to be maimed or killed in his own plant +and news of it to reach him after days or perhaps never. He made a +note to rectify THAT state of affairs. "You mean that this man Hammil +was hurt through our fault?" + +"I'm afraid a jury would say so." The young man explained the +accident in detail. "He complained about the condition of his +machine, and his foreman told him he could stick to his job there or +quit." + +"Forced him to work on an unsafe machine or quit?" + +"Yes." + +Bonbright stared at his blotter a moment. "What did you want to see +me about?" + +"We'd better settle. Right now I can probably run up and put a wad of +bills under Hammil's nose and his wife's, and it'll look pretty big. +Before some ambulance-chaser gets hold of him. He hasn't been able to +talk until awhile ago, so nobody's seen him." + +"Your idea is that we could settle for less than a jury would give +him?" + +The young man laughed. "A jury'd give him four or five thousand, +maybe more. Doctor says the injury is permanent. I've settled more +than one like it for three or four hundred." + +"The man won't be able to work again?" + +"Won't be good for much." + +"And we're responsible!" Bonbright said it to himself, not to the +young man. "Is this thing done often--settling these things for--what +we can squeeze them down to?" + +"Of course." The young man was calloused. His job was to settle +claims and save money. His value increased as his settlements were +small. + +"Where's Hammil?" + +"At the General Hospital." + +Bonbright got up and went to the closet for his hat. "Come on," he +said. + +"You're not going up there, are you?" + +"Yes." + +"But--but I can handle it all right, Mr. Foote. There's no need to +bother you." + +"I've no doubt you can handle it--maybe too well," said Bonbright. + +They were driven to the hospital and shown up to Jim Hammil's room. +His wife was there, pale, tearless, by his bedside. Jim was bandaged, +groaning, in agony. Bonbright's lips lost their color. He felt +guilty. It was HE who had put this man where he was, had smashed him. +It was HIS fault. + +He walked to the bedside. "Jim," he said, "I am Mr. Foote." + +"I--know--you," said the man between teeth set to hold back his +groans. + +"And I know you," said his wife. "I know you.... What do you want +here?" + +"I came to see Jim," said Bonbright. "I didn't know he was hurt until +a few minutes ago.... It's useless to say I'm sorry." + +"They made him work on that machine. He knowed it wasn't safe.... He +had to work on it or lose his job...." + +"I know that NOW, Mrs. Hammil.... What was he earning?" + +"Two-seventy-five a day.... And now.... How'll we live, with him in +the hospital and maybe never able to work again?" + +"Here..." protested Hammil, weakly, glaring at Bonbright. "We'll come +out all right. He'll pay.... You'll pay, that's what you will. A +jury'll make you pay. Wait till I kin see my lawyer...." + +"You won't need any lawyer, Jim," said Bonbright. It was hard for him +to talk. He could not speak to these people as he wanted to, nor say +the words that would make their way through their despair and rage to +their hearts. "You won't need any lawyer," he repeated. + +"If you think I'm--goin'--to sign--one of them--releases--you're +damn--mistaken," moaned the man. + +"Jim," said Bonbright, "you needn't sign anything.... What's done +can't be mended.... It was bad. It was criminal..." + +"Mr. Foote," protested the young lawyer. + +"I'll attend to this," said Bonbright, shortly. "It's between Jim and +me.... I'll make it as nearly right as it can be made.... First +we'll have you out of this ward into a room.... As long as you are +laid up your wife shall have your full pay every week, and then you +and I will have a talk to see what can be done. Only don't worry.... +Don't worry, Mrs. Hammil...." + +Hammil uttered a sound that was intended for a laugh. "You can't +catch me," he said, in a dreadful voice. "I'm--up to--them sharp +tricks.... You're lyin'.... Git out of here, both of you.... +You're--jest here--to cheat me." + +"You're wrong, Jim." + +"I know--you and--your kind," Jim said, trying to lift himself on his +elbow. "I know--what you--done durin'--the strike.... I had a baby-- +and she--DIED.... You killed her!" His voice rose almost to a +scream. + +"Better go, sir," said a nurse. "He's hurting himself." + +Bonbright gazed at her blankly. "How can I go?" he asked. "He won't +believe me. He's got to believe me...." + +"You lie!... you lie!..." Hammil cried. "I won't talk to you.... My +lawyer'll--do my talkin'." + +Bonbright paused a moment. Then he saw it would do no good to remain. +The man's mind was poisoned against him; was unable to conceive of a +man in Bonbright's place meaning him otherwise than treachery.... It +went deeper than suspicion of an individual; it was suspicion of a +class. + +"I'll do what I promised, Jim.... That'll prove it to you." + +"You--lie.... You lie..." the man called after him, and Bonbright +heard the words repeated again and again as he walked down the long +corridor. + + + + +CHAPTER XXXI + + +Bonbright worked feverishly. These were the best days he had known +since he left college, but they were not happy days. He could not +forget Ruth--the best he could do was to prevent himself from +remembering too much, and so he worked. He demanded of himself more +than it is in a single man to give, but he accomplished an +astonishingly large part of it. Day and night he drove himself +without relaxation and without pause. If he stopped, the old feeling +of emptiness, of the futility of his existence, and the bitterness of +his fortune returned. His nature might have become warped, but for +the labor. + +The building of the new shops he left to Mershon, knowing himself +incompetent. He knew what sort of shops he wanted; Mershon knew how +to produce them, and Mershon was dependable. Bonbright had implicit +confidence in the engineer's ability and integrity, and it was +justified. The new mills were rising.... + +Bonbright's part in that was enough to keep one man occupied, for, +however much he might leave to Mershon, there were countless details +that he must decide; innumerable points to be referred to him and +discussed. But his chief interest was not in producing a plant to +manufacture engines, but in producing a crew of men to operate the +plant; not merely hiring capable workingmen, but producing a +condition where himself and those working-men would be in accord; +where the men would be satisfied, happy in their work; a condition +millennial in that the known as labor unrest should be eliminated. He +had set himself to find a solution to the age-old problem of capital +and labor.... + +He had not realized how many elements entered into the matter, and +what a high degree of specialized knowledge must be brought to the +task. In the beginning he had fancied himself as capable of working +out the basis for ideal relations between him and his employees as +any other. He soon discovered himself to be all but unequipped for +the effort.... It was a saving quality of Bonbright's that he would +admit his own futilities. Therefore he called to conference the +country's greatest sociologist, Professor Witzer. + +The professor, a short, wabbling individual, with watery eyes that +could read print splendidly if it were held within six inches of +them, and who, when he did read, moved book or paper back and forth +in front of his spectacles in a droll, owlish, improbable way, +instead of letting his eyes travel across the lines of print, was +skeptical at first. He suspected Bonbright of being a youth +scratching the itch of a sudden and transient enthusiasm. But he +became interested. Bonbright compelled his interest, for he was +earnest, intense, not enthusiastic, not effervescing with underdone +theories. + +"What you want to do, as I understand it," said the professor, "is +merely to revolutionize the world and bring on the millennium." + +"What I want to do," said Bonbright, "is to formulate a plan that +will be fair to labor and fair to me. I want a condition where both +of us will be satisfied--and where both will know we are satisfied. +It can be done." + +"Um!..." said the professor. "Are you, by chance, a socialist?" + +"Far from it." + +"What are your theories?" + +"I haven't any theories. I want facts, working facts. There's no use +palavering to the men. What they want and what I want is something +concrete. I want to know what they want, and how much of it will be +good for them. I want something that will work in dollars and cents, +in days' work, in making life more comfortable for the women and +children at home. If merely paying wages will do it, then I'll pay +the wages...." + +"It won't," said the professor. "But it 'll go quite some distance." + +"It isn't a matter of sentiment with me," Bonbright said. "It's a +matter of business, and peace of mind, and all-around efficiency. I +don't mean efficiency in this plant, but efficiency in LIVING.... +For the men and their families." + +"It can't be done by giving them rest rooms with Turkish rugs nor +porcelain bathtubs, nor by installing a moving-picture show for them +to watch while they eat lunch," said the professor. "It can't be done +with money alone. It would work in isolated cases. Give some men a +sufficient wage and they would correct their ways of living; they +would learn to live decently, and they would save for the rainy day +and for old age. I don't venture an estimate of the proportion.... +But there would be the fellows whose increased pay meant only that +much more to spend. Mighty little would filter through to improve the +conditions of their actual living.... In any scheme there will have +to be some way of regulating the use of the money they earn--and +that's paternalism." + +"Can it be made to work? It's your honest opinion I'm after." + +"I don't believe it, but, young man, it will be the most interesting +experiment I ever engaged in. Have you any ideas?" + +"My basic idea is to pay them enough so they can live in comfort. +..." + +"And then you've got to find some machinery to compel them to live in +comfort." + +"I'd like to see every employee of this concern the owner of his +home. I'd like to feel that no man's wife is a drudge. An +astonishingly large number of wives do washing, or work out by the +day.... And boarders. The boarder is a problem." + +"You HAVE been thinking," said the professor. "Do I understand that +you are offering me the chance to work with you on this experiment?" + +"Yes." + +"I accept.... I never dreamed I'd have a chance to meddle with human +lives the way you seem to want to meddle with them...." + +So they went to work, and day after day, week after week, their plan +grew and expanded and embraced unforeseen intricacies. Bonbright +approached it from the practical side always. The professor came to +view him with amazement--and with respect. + +"I'm sticking my finger into the lives of twenty thousand human +beings!" the professor said to himself many times a day, with the joy +of the scientist. "I'm being first assistant to the world's greatest +meddler. That young man is headed for a place as one of the world's +leaders, or for a lamp-post and a rope.... I wonder which...." + +The thing that Bonbright asked himself many, many times was a +different sort of question. "Is this the sort of thing she meant? +Would she approve of doing this?" + +He was not embarked on the project for Ruth's sake. It was not Ruth +who had driven him to it, but himself, and the events of his life. +But her presence was there.... He was doing his best. He was doing +the thing he thought would bring about the condition he desired, and +he hoped she would approve if she knew.... But whether she approved +or not, he would have persisted along his own way.... If he had +never known her, never married her, he would have done the same +thing. Some day she would know this, and understand it. It would be +another irony for her to bear. The man she had married that she might +influence him to ameliorate the conditions of his workingmen was +doing far more than she had dreamed of accomplishing herself--and +would have done it if she had never been born.... + +Neither she nor Bonbright realized, perhaps would never realize, that +it is not the individual who brings about changes in the social +fabric. It is not fanatics, not reformers, not inspired leaders. It +is the labored working of the mass, and the working of the mass +brings forth and casts up fanatics, reformers, leaders, when it has +gestated them and prepared the way for their birth. The individual is +futile; his aims and plans are futile save as they are the outcome of +the trend of the mass.... + +Ruth was not so fortunate as Bonbright. Her work did not fill her +time nor draw her interest. It was merely the thing she did to earn +the necessities of life. She was living now in a boarding house on +the lower side of the city, where a room might be had for a sum +within her means. It was not a comfortable room. It was not a room +that could be made comfortable by any arrangement of its occupant. +But it was in a clean house, presided over by a woman of years and +respectable garrulity. + +Six days of the week Ruth worked, and the work became daily more +exhausting, demanding more of her nervous organism as her physical +organism had less to give. She was not taking care of herself. It is +only those who cling to life, who are interested in life and in +themselves, who take care of their bodies as they should be taken +care of. She had been slight; now she was thin. No one now would have +dreamed of calling her the Girl with the Grin. She looked older, +lifeless, almost haggard at times. Her condition was not wholly the +result of unhappiness. It was due to lack of fresh air and exercise, +for she went seldom abroad. It was fear of meeting acquaintances that +shut her in her room--fear of meeting Bonbright, fear of encountering +Dulac. It was loneliness, too. She made no new acquaintances, and +went her way in solitude. She had not so much as a nodding +acquaintance with most of her fellow lodgers. Not one of them could +boast of conversation with her beyond the briefest passing of the +day.... At first they gossiped about her, speculated about her, wove +crude stories about her. Some chose to think her exclusive, and +endeavored to show her by their bearing that they thought themselves +as good as she--and maybe better. They might have saved themselves +their trouble, for she never noticed. Lack of proper nourishment did +its part. Women seem prone to neglect their food. The housewife, if +her husband does not come home to the midday meal, contents herself +with a snack, hastily picked up, and eaten without interest. Ruth had +no appetite. She went to the table three times a day because a +certain quantity of food was a necessity. She did not eat at Mrs. +Moody's table, but "went out to her meals...." She ate anywhere and +everywhere. + +Mrs. Moody alone had tried to approach Ruth. Ruth had been courteous, +but distant. She wanted no prying into her affairs; no seekers after +confidences; no discoverers of her identity. For gossip spreads, and +one does not know what spot it may reach.... + +"It hain't healthy for her to set in her room all the time," Mrs. +Moody said to the mercenary who helped with the cooking. "And it +hain't natural for a girl like her never to have comp'ny. Since she's +been here there hain't been a call at the door for her--nor a +letter." + +"I hain't seen her but once or twict," said the mercenary. "If I was +to meet her face to face on the street, I hain't sure I'd know it was +her." + +"She didn't look good when she come, and she's lookin' worse every +day. First we know we'll have her down on her back.... And then +what?... S'pose she was to be took sudden? Who'd we notify?" + +"The horspittle," said the mercenary, callously. + +"She's sich a mite of a thing, with them big eyes lookin' sorry all +the while. I feel sort of drawed to her. But she won't have no truck +with me... nor nobody.... She hain't never left nothin' layin' +around her room that a body could git any idee about her from. +Secretive, I call it." + +"Maybe," said the mercenary, "she's got a past." + +"One thing's certain, if she don't look better 'fore she looks worse, +she won't have a long future." + +That seemed to be a true saying. Ruth felt something of it. It was +harder for her to get up of mornings, more difficult to drag herself +to work and hold up during the day. Sometimes she skipped the evening +meal now and went straight home to bed. All she wanted was to rest, +to lie down.... One day she fainted in the office.... + +Her burden was harder to support because it included not grief alone, +but remorse, and if one excepts hatred, remorse is the most wearing +of the emotions.... As she became weaker, less normal, it preyed on +her. + +Then, one morning, she fainted as she tried to get out of bed, and +lay on the floor until consciousness returned. She dragged herself +back into bed and lay there, gazing dully up at the ceiling, +suffering no pain... only so tired. She did not speculate about it. +Somehow it did not interest her very much. Even not going to work +didn't bother her--she had reached that point. + +Mrs. Moody had watched her going and coming for several days with +growing uneasiness. This morning she knew Ruth had not gone out, and +presently the woman slap-slapped up the stairs in her heelless +slippers to see about it. She rapped on Ruth's door. There was no +response. She rapped again.... + +"I know you're in there," she said, querulously. "Why don't you +answer?" + +Inside, Ruth merely moved her head from side to side on the pillow. +She heard--but what did it matter? + +Mrs. Moody opened the door and stepped inside. She was prepared for +what she saw. + +"There you be," she said, with a sort of triumphant air, as of one +whose prophecy had been fulfilled to the letter, "flat on your back." + +Ruth paid no attention. + +"What ails you?" + +No answer. + +"Here now"--she spoke sharply--"you know who I be, don't you?" + +"Yes," said Ruth. + +"Why didn't you answer?" + +"I am--so--tired," Ruth said, faintly. + +"You can't be sick here. Don't you go doin' it. I hain't got no time +to look after sick folks." She might as well have spoken to the +pillow. Ruth didn't care. She had simply reached the end of her will, +and had given up. It was over. She was absolutely without emotion. + +Mrs. Moody approached the bed and felt of Ruth's hand. She had +expected to find it hot. It was cold, bloodless. It gave the woman a +start. She looked down at Ruth's face, from which the big eyes stared +up at her without seeming to see her. + +"You poor mite of a thing," said Mrs. Moody, softly. Then she seemed +to jack herself up to a realization that softness would not do and +that she could not allow such goings-on in her house. "You're sick, +and if I'm a judge you're mighty sick," she said, sharply. "Who's +goin' to look after you. Say?" + +The tone stirred Ruth.... "Nobody..." she said, after a pause. + +"I got to notify somebody," said Mrs. Moody. "Any relatives or +friends?" + +Ruth seemed to think it over as if the idea were hard to comprehend. + +"Once I--had a--husband..." she said. + +"But you hain't got him now, apparently. Have you got anybody?" + +"... Husband..." said Ruth. "... husband.... But he--went away.... +No, _I_--went away... because it was--too late then.... It was too +late--THEN, wasn't it?" Her voice was pleading. + +"You know more about it than me," said Mrs. Moody. "I want you should +tell me somebody I can notify." + +"I--loved him... and I didn't know it.... That was--queer--wasn't +it?... He NEVER knew it...." + +"She's clean out of her head," said Mrs. Moody, irritably, "and +what'll I do? Tell me that. What'll I do, and her most likely without +a cent and all that?... Why didn't you go and git sick somewheres +else? You could of...." + +She wrung her hands and called Providence to witness that all the +arrows of misfortune were aimed at her, and always had been. + +"You ought to be ashamed of yourself--a growd woman like you--makin' +me all this nuisance. I sha'n't put up with it. You'll go packin' to +the horspittle, that's what you'll do. Mark my word." + +Mrs. Moody's method of packing Ruth off to the hospital was unique. +It consisted of running herself for the doctor. It consisted of +listening with bated breath to his directions; it consisted of giving +up almost wholly the duties--A conducting her boarding house, and in +making gruels and heating water and sitting in Ruth's room wielding a +fan over Ruth's ungrateful face. It consisted in spending of her +scant supply of money for medicines, in constant attendance and +patient, faithful nursing--accompanied by sharp scoldings and +recriminations uttered in a monotone guaranteed not to disturb the +sick girl. Perhaps she really fancied she was being hard and +unsympathetic and calloused. She talked as if she were, but no single +act was in tune with her words.... She grumbled--and served. She +complained--and hovered over Ruth with clumsy, gentle hands. She was +afraid somebody might think her tender. She was afraid she might +think so herself.... The world is full of Mrs. Moodys. + +Ruth lay day after day with no change, half conscious, wholly +listless.... It seemed to Mrs. Moody to be nothing but a waiting for +the end. But she waited for the end as though the sick girl were +flesh of her flesh, protesting to heaven against the imposition, +ceaselessly. + + + + +CHAPTER XXXII + + +If Bonbright's handling of the Hammil casualty created a good +impression among the men, his stand against the unions more than +counterbalanced it. He was able to get no nearer to the men. Perhaps, +as individuals became acquainted with him, there was less open +hostility manifested, but there remained suspicion, resentment, which +Bonbright was unable to convert into friendship and co-operation. + +The professor of sociology peered frequently at Bonbright through his +thick spectacles with keen interest. He found as much enjoyment in +studying his employer as he did in working over his employer's plan. +Frequently he discussed Bonbright with Mershon. + +"He's a strange young man," he said, "an instructive psychological +study. Indeed he is. One cannot catalogue him. He is made up of +opposites. Look you, Mershon, at his eagerness to better the +conditions of his men--that's why I'm abandoning classes of boys who +ought to be interested in what I teach them, but aren't--and then +place beside it his antagonism to unionism...." + +Mershon was interested at that instant more in the practical aspects +of the situation. "The unions are snapping at our heels. Bricklayers, +masons, structural steel, the whole lot. I've been palavering with +them--but I'm about to the end of my rope. We've needed men and we've +got a big sprinkling of union men. Wages have attracted them. I'm +afraid we've got too many, so many the unions feel cocky. They think +they're strong enough to take a hand and try to force recognition on +us.... He won't have it." Mershon shrugged his shoulders. "I've got +to the end of my rope. Yesterday I told him the responsibility was +one I didn't hanker for, and put it up to him. He's going to meet +with the labor fellows to-day.... And we can look for fireworks." + +"If I were labor," said the professor, "I think I should leave that +young man alone--until I saw where he headed. They're going to get +more out of him than organization could compel or even hope for. If +they prod him too hard they may upset things. He's fine capacity for +stubbornness." + +The labor representatives were on their way to the office. When they +arrived they asked first for Mershon, who received them and notified +Bonbright. + +"Show them in," he said. "We may as well have it over." There were +four of the men whom Mershon led through the door into Bonbright's +office, but Bonbright saw but one of them-Dulac! + +The young man half rose from his chair, then sat down with his eyes +fixed upon the man into whose hands, he believed, his wife had given +herself. It was curious that he felt little resentment toward Dulac, +and none of that murderous rage which some men might have felt.... + +"Mr. Dulac," he said, "I want to--talk with you. Will you ask these-- +other gentlemen if they will step outside for--a few moments.... I +have a personal matter to discuss with--Mr. Dulac." + +Dulac was not at his ease. He had come in something like a spirit of +bravado to face Bonbright, and this turn to the event nonplused him. +However, if he would save his face he must rise to the situation. + +"Just a minute, boys," he said to his companions, and with Mershon +they filed into the next room. + +"Dulac," said Bonbright, in a voice that was low but steady, "is she +well and--happy?" + +"Eh?..." Dulac was startled indeed. + +"I haven't kept you to--quarrel," said Bonbright. "I hoped she would- +-wait the year before she went--to you, but it was hers to choose. +... Now that she has chosen--I want to know if it has--made her +happy. I want her to be happy, Dulac." + +Dulac came a step nearer the desk. Something in Bonbright's voice and +manner compelled, if not his sympathy, at least something which +resembled respect. + +"Do you mean you don't know where Ruth is?" he asked. + +"No." + +"You thought she was with me?" + +"Yes." + +"Mr. Foote, she isn't with me.... I wish to God she was. I've seen +her only once since--that evening. It was by accident, on the street. +... I tried to see her. I found the place empty, and nobody knew +where she'd gone. Even her mother didn't know. I thought you had sent +her away." + +"Dulac," said Bonbright, leaning forward as though drawn by spasmodic +contraction of tense muscles, "is this true?" + +For once Dulac did not become theatrical, did not pose, did not reply +to this doubt, as became labor flouting capital. Perhaps it was +because the matter lay as close to his stormy heart as it did to +Bonbright's. "Yes," he said. + +"Then where..." + +"I don't--know." + +"She's out there alone," said Bonbright, dully. "She's been out there +alone--all these months. She's so little.... What made her go +away?... Something has happened to her...." + +"Haven't you had any word--anything?" Dulac was becoming frightened +himself. + +"Nothing--nothing." + +Bonbright leaped to his feet and took two steps forward and two back. +"I've got to know," he said. "She must be found.... Anything could +have happened...." + +"It's up to us to find her," said Dulac, unconsciously, intuitively +coupling himself with Bonbright. They were comrades in this thing. +The anxiety was equally theirs. + +"Yes.... Yes." + +"She wasn't the kind of a girl to--" + +"No," said Bonbright, quickly, as if afraid to hear Dulac say the +words, "she wouldn't do THAT.... Maybe she's just hiding away--or +hurt--or sick. I've got to know." + +"Call back the boys.... Let's get this conference over so we can get +at it." + +Bonbright nodded, and Dulac stepped to the door. The men re-entered. + +"Now, gentlemen," said Bonbright. + +"We just came to put the question to you squarely, Mr. Foote. We +represent all the trades working on the new buildings. Are you going +to recognize the unions?" + +"No," said Bonbright. + +"More than half the men on the job are union." + +"They're welcome to stay," said Bonbright. + +"Well, they won't stay," said the spokesman. "We've fiddled along +with this thing, and the boys are mighty impatient. This is our last +word, Mr. Foote. Recognize the unions or we'll call off our men." + +Bonbright stood up. "Good afternoon, gentlemen," said he. + +With angry faces they tramped out, all but Dulac, who stopped in the +door. "I'm going to look for her," he said. + +"If you find anything--hear anything--" + +Dulac nodded. "I'll let you know," he said. + +"I'll be--searching, too," said Bonbright. Mershon came in. "Here's a +letter--" he began. + +Bonbright shook his head. "Attend to it--whatever it is. I'm going +out. I don't know when I shall be back.... You have full authority. +..." + +He all but rushed from the room, and Mershon stared after him in +amazement. Bonbright did not know where he was going, what he was +going to do. There was no plan, but his need was action. He must be +doing something, searching.... But as he got into his machine he +recognized the futility of aimlessness. There was a way of going +about such things.... He must be calm. He must enlist aid. + +Suddenly he thought of Hilda Lightener. He had not seen her for +weeks. She had been close to Ruth; perhaps she knew something. He +drove to the Lightener residence and asked for her. Hilda was at +home. + +"She's LOST," said Bonbright, as Hilda came into the room. + +"What? Who are you talking about?" + +"'Ruth.... She's not with Dulac. He doesn't know where she is; she +was never with him." + +"Did you think she was?" Hilda said, accusingly. "You--you're so--Oh, +the pair of you!" + +"Do you know where she is?" + +"I haven't seen nor heard of her since the day--your father died." + +"Something must have happened.... She wouldn't have gone away like +that--without telling anybody, even her mother...." + +"She would," said Hilda. "She--she was hurt. She couldn't bear to +stay. She didn't tell me that, but I know.... And it's your fault +for--for being blind." + +"I don't understand." + +"She loved you," said Hilda, simply. "No.... She told me. She never- +-loved--me. It was him. She married me to--" + +"I know what she married you for. I know all about it.... And she +thought she loved him. She found out she didn't. But I knew it for a +long time," Hilda said, womanlike, unable to resist the temptation to +boast of her intuition. "It all came to her that day--and she was +going to tell you.... She was going to do that--going to go to you +and tell you and ask you to take her back.... She said she'd make +you believe her...." + +"No," said Bonbright, "you're--mistaken, Hilda. She was my wife.... +I know how she felt. She couldn't bear to have me pass close to her. +..." + +"It IS true," Hilda said. "She was going to you.... And then I came +and told her your father was dead.... That made it all impossible, +don't you see?... Because you knew why she had married you, and you +would believe she came back to you because--you owned the mills and +employed all those men.... That's what you WOULD have believed, too. +..." + +"Yes," said Bonbright. + +"And then--it was more than she could bear. To know she loved you and +had loved you a long time--and that you loved her. You do, don't +you?" + +"I can't--help it." + +"So that made it worse than anything that had gone before--and she +went away. She didn't tell even me, but I ought to have known...." + +"And you haven't even a trace?" + +"Bonbright, if you find her--what?" + +"I don't know.... I've just got to find her. I've got to know what's +happened...." + +"Are you going to tell her you love her--and take her back?" + +"She wouldn't want me.... Oh, you think you are right, Hilda. But I +know. I lived with her for weeks and I saw how she felt. You're +wrong.... No, I'll just FIND her...." + +"And leave her as bad off as she was before." + +"I'll do anything for her--you know that." + +"Except the one thing she can't do without...." + +"You don't understand," he said, wearily. + +"And you're dense and blind--and that's what makes half the cruelty +in the world." + +"Let's not--talk about that part of it, Hilda. Will you help me find +her?" + +"No," said Hilda. "She's where she wants to be. I'm not going to +torture her by finding her for you--and then letting her slip back +again--into hopelessness. If you'll promise to love her and believe +she loves you--I'll try to find her." + +Bonbright shook his head. + +"Then let her be. No matter where she is, she's better off than she +would be if you found her--and she tried to tell you and you wouldn't +believe.... You let her be." + +"She may be hurt, or sick...." + +"If she were she'd let somebody know," said Hilda, but in her own +mind was a doubt of this. She knew Ruth, she knew to what heights of +fanaticism Ruth's determination could rise, and that the girl was +quite capable, more especially in her state of overwrought nerves, of +dying in silence. + +"I won't help you," she said, firmly. + +Bonbright got up slowly, wearily. "I'm sorry," he said. "I thought +you--would help.... I'll have to hunt alone, then...." And before +she could make up her mind to speak, to tell him she didn't mean what +she said, and that she would search with him and help him, he was +gone. + +The only thing he could think of to do was to go once more to their +apartment and see if any trace of her could be picked up there. +Somebody must have seen her go. Somebody must have seen the furniture +going or heard where it was going.... Perhaps somebody might +remember the name on the van. + +He did not content himself with asking the janitor and his wife, who +could tell him nothing. He went from tenant to tenant. Few of them +remembered even that such a girl had lived there, for tenants in +apartment houses change with the months. But one woman, a spinster of +the sort who pass their days in their windows and fill their lives +meagerly by watching what they can see of their neighbors' +activities, gave a hint. She was sure she remembered that particular +removal on account of the young woman who moved looking so pale and +anxious. Yes, she was sure she did, because she told herself that +something must have happened, and it excited her to know that +something had happened so close to her. Evidently she had itched with +curiosity for days. + +"It was a green van--I'm sure it was a green van," she said, "because +I was working a centerpiece with green leaves, and the van was almost +the same shade.... Not quite the same shade, but almost. I held my +work up to the window to see, and the van was a little darker...." + +"Wasn't there a name on it? Didn't you notice the name?" + +The spinster concentrated on that. "Yes, there was a name. Seems to +me it began with an 'S,' or maybe it was a 'W.' Now, wasn't that name +Walters? No, seems more as if it was Rogers, or maybe Smith. It was +one of those, or something like it. Anyhow, I'm sure it began with a +'B.'..." + +That was the nearest Bonbright came to gleaning a fact. A green van. +And it might not have been a green van. The spinster's memory seemed +uncertain. Probably she had worked more than one centerpiece, not all +with green leaves. She was as likely to have worked yellow flowers or +a pink design.... But Bonbright had no recourse but to look for a +green van. + +He drove to the office of a trucking and moving concern and asked if +there were green vans. The proprietor said HIS vans were always +yellow. Folks could see them farther and the paint wore better; but +all men didn't follow his judgment. Yes, there WERE green vans, +though not so good as his, and not so careful of the furniture. He +told Bonbright who owned the green vans. It was a storage house. + +Bonbright went to the huge brick storage building, and persuaded a +clerk to search the records. A bill from Bonbright's pocketbook added +to the persuasion.... An hour's wait developed that a green van +belonging to the company had moved goods from that address--and the +spinster was vindicated. + +"Brought 'em here and stored 'em," said the young man. "Here's the +name--Frazer. Ruth Frazer." + +"That's it," said Bonbright. "That's it." + +"Storage hain't been paid.... No word from the party. Maybe she'll +show up some day to claim 'em. If not, we'll sell 'em for the +charges." + +"Didn't she leave any address?" + +"Nope." + +It had been only a cul de sac. Bonbright had come to the end of it, +and had only to retrace his steps. It had led him no nearer to his +wife. What to do now? He didn't see what he could do, or that anybody +could do better than he had done.... He thought of going to the +police, but rejected that plan. It was repulsive to him and would be +repulsive to Ruth.... He might insert a personal in the paper. Such +things were done. But if Ruth were ill she would not see it. If she +wanted to hide from him she would not reply. + +He went to Mrs. Frazer, but Mrs. Frazer only sobbed and bewailed her +fate, and stated her opinion of Bonbright in many confused words. It +seemed to be her idea that her daughter was dead or kidnapped, and +sometimes she appeared to hold both notions simultaneously.... +Bonbright got nothing there. + +Discouraged, he went back to his office, but not to his work. He +could not work. His mind would hold no thought but of Ruth.... He +must find her. He MUST.... Nothing mattered unless he could find +her, and until he found her he would be good for nothing else. + +He tried to pull himself together. "I've got to work," he said. "I've +got to think about something else...." But his will was unequal to +the performance.... "Where is she?... Where is she?.." The question, +the DEMAND, repeated itself over and over and over. + + + + +CHAPTER XXXIII + + +There was a chance that a specialist, a professional, might find +traces of Ruth where Bonbright's untrained eyes missed them +altogether. So, convinced that he could do nothing, that he did not +in the least know how to go about the search, he retained a firm of +discreet, well-recommended searchers for missing persons. With that +he had to be content. He still searched, but it was because he had to +search; he had to feel that he was trying, doing something, but no +one realized the uselessness of it more than himself. He was always +looking for her, scanned every face in the crowd, looked up at every +window. + +In a day or two he was able to force himself to work steadily, +unremittingly again. The formula of his patent medicine, with which +he was to cure the ills of capital-labor, was taking definite shape, +and the professor was enthusiastic. Not that the professor felt any +certainty of effecting a permanent cure; he was enthusiastic over it +as a huge, splendid experiment. He wanted to see it working and how +men would react to it. He had even planned to write a book about it +when it should have been in operation long enough to show what its +results would be. + +Bonbright was sure. He felt that it would bridge the gulf between him +and his employees--that gulf which seemed now to be growing wider and +deeper instead of disappearing. Mershon's talk was full of labor +troubles, of threatened strikes, of consequent delays. + +"We can finish thirty days ahead of schedule," he said to Bonbright, +"if the unions leave us alone." + +"You think I ought to recognize them," Bonbright said. "Well, Mr. +Mershon, if labor wants to cut its own throat by striking--let it +strike. I'm giving it work. I'm giving it wages that equal or are +higher than union scale. They've no excuse for a strike. I'm willing +to do anything within reason, but I'm going to run my own concern. +Before I'll let this plant be unionized I'll shut it down. If I can't +finish the new shops without recognizing the unions, then they'll +stand as they are." + +"You're the boss," said Mershon, with a shrug. "Do you know there's +to be a mass meeting in the armory to-night? I think the agitator +people are going to try to work the men up to starting trouble." + +"You think they'll strike?" + +"I KNOW they will." + +"All the men, or just the steel workers and bricklayers and temporary +employees on the new buildings?" + +"I don't know.... But if any of them go out it's going to make +things mighty bad." + +"I'll see what can be done," said Bonbright. + +The strike must be headed off if possible. It would mean a +monstrously costly delay; it might mean a forfeiture of his contract +with Lightener. It might mean that he had gone into this new project +and expended hundreds of thousands of dollars to equip for the +manufacture of engines in vain.... The men must not strike. + +There seemed no way to avert it but to surrender, and that Bonbright +did not even consider.... He called in the professor. + +"The plan is practically complete, isn't it?" he asked. + +"I'd call it so. The skeleton is there and it's covered with flesh. +Some of the joints creak a little and maybe there's an ear or an +eyebrow missing.... But those are details." + +Bonbright nodded. "We'll try it out," he said. "To-night there's a +mass meeting--to stir our men up to strike. They mustn't strike, and +I'm going to stop them--with the plan." + +"Eh?" said the professor. + +"I'm going to the meeting," said Bonbright. + +"You're--young man, you're crazy." + +"I'm going to head off that strike. I'm going there and I'm going to +announce the plan." + +"They won't let you speak." + +"I think they will.... Curiosity will make them." + +The young man did understand something of human nature, thought the +professor. Curiosity would, most likely, get a hearing for him. + +"It's dangerous," said he. "The men aren't in a good humor. There +might be some fanatic there--" + +"It's a chance," said Bonbright, "but I've got to take it." + +"I'll go with you," said the professor. + +"No. I want to be there alone. This thing is between my men and me. +It's personal. We've got to settle it between ourselves." + +The professor argued, pleaded; but Bonbright was stubborn, and the +professor had previous acquaintance with Bonbright's stubbornness. +Its quality was that of tool steel. Bonbright had made up his mind to +go and to go alone. Nobody could argue him out of it. + +Bonbright did go alone. He went early in order to obtain a good +position in the hall, a mammoth gathering place capable of seating +three thousand people. He entered quietly, unostentatiously, and +walked to a place well toward the front, and he entered unobserved. +The street before the hall was full of arguing, gesticulating men. +Inside were other loudly talking knots, sweltering in the closeness +of the place. In corners, small impromptu meetings were listening to +harangues not on the evening's program. Already half the seats were +taken by the less emotional, more stolid men, who were content to +wait in silence for the real business of the meeting. There was an +air of suspense, of tenseness, of excitement. Bonbright could feel +it. It made him tingle; it gave him a sensation of vibrating +emptiness resembling that of a man descending in a swift elevator. + +Bonbright was not accustomed to public speaking, but, somehow, he did +not regard what he was about to say as a public speech. He did not +think of it as being kindred to oratory. He was there to talk +business with a gathering of his men, that was all. He knew what he +was going to say, and he was going to say it clearly, succinctly, as +briefly as possible. + +In half an hour the chairs on the platform were occupied by chairman, +speakers, union officials. The great hall was jammed, and hundreds +packed about the doors in the street without, unable to gain +admission.... The chairman opened the meeting briefly. Behind him +Bonbright saw Dulac, saw the members of the committee that had waited +on him, saw other men known to him only because he had seen their +pictures from time to time in the press. It was an imposing gathering +of labor thought. + +Bonbright had planned what he would do. It was best, he believed, to +catch the meeting before it had been excited by oratory, before it +had been lashed to anger. It was calmer, more reasonable now than it +would be again. He arose to his feet. + +"Mr. Chairman," he said, distinctly. + +The chairman paused; Bonbright's neighbors turned to stare; men all +over the hall rose and craned their necks to have a view of the +interrupter. + +"Sit down!...Shut up!" came cries from here and there. Then other +cries, angry cries. "It's Foote!... It's the boss! Out with him!... +Out with him!" + +"Mr. Chairman," said Bonbright, "I realize this is unusual, but I +hope you will allow me to be heard. Every man here must admit that I +am vitally interested in what takes place here to-night.... I come +in a friendly spirit, and I have something to say which is important +to me and to you. I ask you to hear me. I will be brief..." + +"Out with him!... No!... Throw him out!" came yells from the floor. +The house was on its feet, jostling, surging. Men near to Bonbright +hesitated. One man reached over the shoulders of his fellows and +struck at Bonbright. Another shoved him back. + +"Let him talk.... Let's hear him," arose counter-cries. The meeting +threatened to get beyond control, to become a mob. + +The chairman, familiar with the men he dealt with, acted quickly. He +turned to Dulac and whispered, then faced the hall with hands upheld. + +"Mr. Foote is here uninvited," he said. "He requests to be heard. Let +us show him that we are reasonable, that we are patient.... Mr. +Dulac agrees to surrender a portion of his time to Mr. Foote. Let us +hear what he has to say." + +Bonbright pushed his way toward the aisle and moved forward. Once he +stumbled, and almost fell, as a man thrust out a foot to trip him-- +and the hall laughed. + +"Speak your piece. Speak it nice," somebody called, and there was +another laugh. This was healthier, safer. + +Bonbright mounted the platform and advanced to its edge. + +"Every man here," he said, "is an employee of mine. I have tried to +make you feel that your interests are my interests, but I seem to +have failed--or you would not be here. I have tried to prove that I +want to be something more than merely your employer, but you would +not believe me." + +"Your record's bad," shouted a man, and there was another laugh. + +"My record is bad," said Bonbright. "I could discuss that, but it +wouldn't change things. Since I have owned the mills my record has +not been bad. There are men here who could testify for me. All of you +can testify that conditions have been improved.... But I am not here +to discuss that. I am here to lay before you a plan I have been +working on. It is not perfect, but as it stands it is complete +enough, so that you can see what I am aiming at. This plan goes into +effect the day the new plant starts to operate." + +"Does it recognize the unions?" came from the floor. + +"No," said Bonbright. "Please listen carefully.... First it +establishes a minimum wage of five dollars a day. No man or woman in +the plant, in any capacity, shall be paid less than five dollars a +day. Labor helps to earn our profits and labor should share in them. +That is fair. I have set an arbitrary minimum of five dollars because +there must be some basis to work from...." + +The meeting was silent. It was nonplused. It was listening to the +impossible. Every man, every employee, should be paid five dollars a +day! + +"Does that mean common labor?" + +"It means everyone," said Bonbright. "It means the man who sweeps out +the office, the man who runs the elevator, the man who digs a ditch. +Every man does his share and every man shall have his share. + +"I want every man to live in decent comfort, and I want his wife and +babies to live in comfort. With these wages no man's wife need take +in washing nor work out by the day to help support the family. No man +will need to ask his wife to keep a boarder to add to the family's +earnings...." + +The men listened now. Bonbright's voice carried to every corner and +cranny of the hall. Even the men on the platform listened +breathlessly as he went on detailing the plan and its workings. +Nothing like this had ever happened before in the world's history. No +such offer had ever been made to workingmen by an employer capable of +carrying out his promises.... He told them what he wanted to do, and +how he wanted to do it. He told them what he wanted them to do to co- +operate with him--of an advisory board to be elected by the men, +sharing in deliberations that affected the employees, of means to be +instituted to help the men to save and to take care of their savings, +of a strict eight-hour day.... No union had ever dreamed of asking +such terms of an employer. + +"How do we know you'll do it?" yelled a man. + +"You have my word," said Bonbright. + +"Rats!" + +"Shut up... shut up!" the objector was admonished. + +"That's all, men," Bonbright said. "Think it over. This plan is going +into effect. If you want to share in it you can do so, every one of +you.... Thank you for listening." + +Bonbright turned and sat down in a chair on the platform, anxious, +watching that sea of faces, waiting to see what would happen. + +Dulac leaped to his feet. "It's a bribe," he shouted. "It's nothing +but an attempt to buy your manhood for five dollars a day. We're +righting for a principle--not for money.... We're--" + +But his voice was drowned out. The meeting had taken charge of +itself. It wanted to listen to no oratory, but to talk over this +thing that had happened, to realize it, to weigh it, to determine +what it meant to them. Abstract principle must always give way to +concrete fact. The men who fight for principle are few. The fight is +to live, to earn, to continue to exist. Men who had never hoped to +earn a hundred dollars a month; men who had for a score of years +wielded pick and shovel for two dollars a day or less, saw, with eyes +that could hardly believe, thirty dollars a week. It was wealth! It +was that thirty dollars that gripped them now, not the other things. +Appreciation of them would come later, but now it was the voice of +money that was in their ears. What could a man do with five dollars a +day? He could live--not merely exist.... The thing that could not be +had come to pass. + +Dulac shouted, demanded their attention. He might as well have tried +to still the breakers that roared upon a rocky shore. Dulac did not +care for money. He was a revolutionist, a thinker, a man whose work +lay with conditions, not with individuals. Here every man was +thinking as an individual; applying that five dollars a day to his +own peculiar, personal affairs.... Already men were hurrying out of +the hall to carry the amazing tidings home to their wives. + +Dulac stormed on. + +One thing was apparent to Bonbright. The men believed him. They +believed he had spoken the truth. He had known they would believe +him; somehow he had known that. The thing had swept them off their +feet. In all that multitude was not a man whose life was not to be +made easier, whose wife and children were not to be happier, more +comfortable, removed from worry. It was a moving sight to see those +thousands react. They were drunk with it. + +An old man detached himself from the mass and rushed upon the +platform. "It's true?... It's true?" he said, with tears running down +his face. + +"It's true," said Bonbright, standing up and offering his hand. + +That was the first of hundreds. Some one shouted, hoarsely, "Hurrah +for Foote!" and the armory trembled with the shout. + +The thing was done. The thing he had come to do was accomplished. +There would be no strike. + +Dulac had fallen silent, was sitting in his chair with his face +hidden. For him this was a defeat, a bitter blow. + +Bonbright made his way to him. + +"Mr. Dulac," he said, "have you found her?" + +"You've bribed them.... You've bought them," Dulac said, bitterly. + +"I've given them what is theirs fairly.... Have you found any trace +of her?" Even in this moment, which would have thrilled, exalted +another, which would have made another man drunk with achievement, +Bonbright could think of Ruth. Even now Ruth was uppermost in his +mind. All this mattered nothing beside her. "Have you got any trace?" +he asked. + +"No," said Dulac. + + + + +CHAPTER XXXIV + + +Next morning the whole city breakfasted with Bonbright Foote. His +name was on the tongue of every man who took in a newspaper, and of +thousands to whom the news of his revolutionary profit-sharing or +minimum-wage plan was carried by word of mouth. It was the matter of +wages that excited everyone. In those first hours they skipped the +details of the plan, those details which had taken months of labor +and thought to devise. It was only the fact that a wealthy +manufacturer was going to pay a minimum wage of five dollars a day. + +The division between capital and labor showed plainly in the +reception of the news. Capital berated Bonbright; labor was inclined +to fulsomeness. Capital called him on the telephone to remonstrate +and to state its opinion of him as a half-baked idiot of a young +idealist who was upsetting business. Labor put on its hat and stormed +the gates of Bonbright Foote, Incorporated, seeking for five-dollar +jobs. Not hundreds of them came, but thousands. The streets were +blocked with applicants, every one eager for that minimum wage. The +police could not handle the mob. It was there for a purpose and it +intended to stay.... When it was rebuked, or if some one tried to +tell them there were no jobs for it, it threw playful stones through +the windows. It was there at dawn; it still remained at dark. + +A man who had an actual job at Bonbright Foote, Incorporated, was a +hero, an object of admiring interest to his friends and neighbors. +The thing touched him. There had been a miraculous laying on of +hands, under which had passed away poverty. So must the friends and +acquaintances of a certain blind man whose sight was restored by a +bit of divine spittle have regarded him. + +Malcolm Lightener did not content himself with telephoning. He came +in person to say his say to Bonbright, and he said it with point and +emphasis. + +"I thought I taught you some sense in my shop," he said, as he burst +into Bonbright's office. "What's this I hear now? What idiocy are you +up to? Is this infernal newspaper story true?" + +"Substantially," said Bonbright. + +"You're crazy. What are you trying to do? Upset labor conditions in +this town so that business will go to smash? I thought you had a +level head. I had confidence in you--and here you go, shooting off a +half-cocked, wild-eyed, socialistic thing! Did you stop to think what +effect this thing would have on other manufacturers?" + +"Yes," said Bonbright. + +"It'll pull labor down on us. They'll say we can afford to pay such +wages if you can." + +"Well," said Bonbright, "can't you?" + +"You've sowed a fine crop of discontent. It's damned unfair. You'll +have every workingman in town flocking to you. You'll get the pick of +labor." + +"That's good business, isn't it?" Bonbright asked, with a smile. +"Now, Mr. Lightener, there isn't any use thrashing me. The plan is +going into effect. It isn't half baked. I haven't gone off half +cocked. It is carefully planned and thought out--and it will work. +There'll be flurries for a few days, and then things will come back +to the normal for you fellows.... I wish it wouldn't. You're a lot +better able than I am to do what I'm doing, and you know it. If you +can, you ought to." + +"No man has a right to go ahead deliberately and upset business." + +"I'm not upsetting it. I'm merely being fair, and that's what +business should have been years ago. I'm able to pay a five-dollar +minimum, and labor earns it. Then it ought to have it. If you can pay +only a four-dollar minimum, then you should pay it. Labor earns it +for you.... If there's a man whose labor earns for him only a dollar +and seventy-five cents a day, and that man pays it, he's doing as +much at I am..." + +"Bonbright," said Malcolm Lightener, getting to his feet, "I'm damn +disappointed in you." + +"Come in a year and tell me so, then I'll listen to you," said +Bonbright. + +"This nonsense won't last a year. It won't pan out. You'll have to +give it up, and then what? You'll be in a devil of a pickle, won't +you?" + +"All you see is that five dollars. In a day or two the whole plan +will be ready. I'm having it printed in a pamphlet, and I'll send you +one. If you read it carefully and can come back and tell me it's +nonsense, then I don't know you. You might let me go under suspended +sentence at least." + +Lightener shrugged his heavy shoulders. "Take one chunk of advice," +he said. "Keep away from the club for a few days. If the boys feel +the way I do they're apt to take you upstairs and drown you in a +bathtub." + +That was the side of the affair that Bonbright saw most during the +day. Telephone messages, letters, telegrams, poured in and cluttered +his desk. After a while he ceased to open them, for they were all +alike; all sent to say the same thing that Malcolm Lightener had +said. Capital looked upon him as a Judas and flayed him with the +sharpest words they could choose. + +He read all the papers, but the papers reflected the estimated +thought of their subscribers. But to all of them the news was the big +news of the day. No headline was too large to announce it... But the +papers, even those with capitalistic leanings, were afraid to be too +outspoken. Gatherers of news come to have some knowledge of human +nature, and these men saw deeper and farther and quicker than the +Malcolm Lighteners. They did not commit themselves so far but that a +drawing back and realignment would be possible... No little part of +Bonbright's day was spent with reporters. + +The news came to every house in the city. It came even to Mrs. +Moody's obscure boarding house, and the table buzzed with it. It +mounted the stairs with Mrs. Moody to the room where Ruth lay +apathetically in her bed, not stronger, not weaker, taking no +interest in life. + +Mrs. Moody sat daily beside Ruth's bed and talked or read. She read +papers aloud and books aloud, and grumbled. Ruth paid slight +attention, but lay gazing up at the ceiling, or closed her eyes and +pretended she was asleep. She didn't care what was going on in the +world. What did it matter, for she believed she was going to leave +the world shortly. The prospect did not frighten her, nor did it +gladden her. She was indifferent to it. + +Mrs. Moody sat down in her rocker and looked at Ruth triumphantly. +"I'll bet this'll interest you," she said. "I'll bet when I read this +you won't lay there and pertend you don't hear. If you do it's +because somethin's wrong with your brains, that's all I got to say. +Sick or well, it's news to stir up a corpse." + +She began to read. The first words caught Ruth's attention. The words +were Bonbright Foote. She closed her eyes, but listened. Her thoughts +were not clear; her mental processes were foggy, but the words Mrs. +Moody was reading were important to her. She realized that. It was +something she had once been interested in--terribly interested in... +She tried to concentrate on them; tried to comprehend. Presently she +interrupted, weakly: + +"Who--who is it--about?" she asked. + +"Bonbright Foote, the manufacturer. I read it out plain." + +"Yes... What is it?... I didn't--understand very well. What did he +--do?" + +Mrs. Moody began again, impatiently. This time it was clearer to Ruth +... Once she had tried to do something like this thing she was +hearing about--and that was why she was here... It had something to +do with her being sick... And with Bonbright... It was hard to +remember. + +"Even the floor sweepers git it," said Mrs. Moody, interpreting the +news story. "Everybody gits five dollars a day at least, and some +gits more." + +"Everybody?..." said Ruth. "HE'S--giving it to--them?" + +"This Mr. Foote is. Yes." + +Suddenly Ruth began to cry, weakly, feebly. "I didn't help," she +wailed, like an infant. Her voice was no stronger. "He did it alone-- +all alone... I wasn't there..." + +"No, you was right here. Where would you be?" + +"I wonder--if he did--it--for me?" Her voice was piteous, pleading. + +"For you? What in goodness name have YOU got to do with it? He did it +for all them men--thousands of 'em.... And jest think what it'll +mean to 'em!... It'll be like heaven comin' to pass." + +"What--have I--got to do--with it?" Ruth repeated, and then cried out +with grief. "Nothing... Nothing.... NOTHING. If I'd never been +born--he would have done it--just the same." + +"To be sure," said Mrs. Moody, wondering. "I guess your head hain't +jest right to-day." + +"Read... Please read... Every word. Don't miss a word." + +"Well, I swan! You be int'rested. I never see the like." And the good +woman read on, not skipping a word. + +Ruth followed as best she could, seeing dimly, but, seeing that the +thing that was surpassed was the thing she had once sacrificed +herself in a futile effort to bring about... It was rather vague, +that past time in which she had striven and suffered... But she had +hoped to do something... What was it she had done? It was something +about Bonbright... What was it? It had been hard, and she had +suffered. She tried to remember.... And then remembrance came. She +had MARRIED him! + +"He's good--so good," she said, tearfully. "I shouldn't have--done it +... I should have--trusted him... because I knew he was good--all +the tune." + +"Who was good?" asked Mrs. Moody. + +"My husband," said Ruth. + +"For the land sakes, WHAT'S HE got to do with this? Hain't you +listenin' at all?" + +"I'm listening... I'm listening. Don't stop." + +Memory was becoming clearer, the fog was being blown away, and the +past was showing in sharper outline. Events were emerging into +distinctness. She stared at the ceiling with widening eyes, listening +to Mrs. Moody as the woman stumbled on; losing account of the reading +as her mind wandered off into the past, searching, finding, +identifying... She had been at peace. She had not suffered. She had +lain in a lethargy which held away sharp sorrow and bitter thoughts. +They were now working their way through to her, piercing her heart. + +"Oh!..." she cried. "Oh!..." + +"What ails you now? You're enough to drive a body wild. What you +cryin'about? Say!" + +"I--I love him... That's why I hid away--because I--loved him--and-- +and his father died. That was it. I remember now. I couldn't bear +it..." + +"Was it him or his father you was in love with?" asked Mrs. Moody, +acidly. + +"I--hated his father... But when he died I couldn't tell HIM--I +loved him... He wouldn't have believed me." + +"Say," said Mrs. Moody, suddenly awakening to the possibilities of +Ruth's mood, "who was your husband, anyhow?" + +Ruth shook her head. "I--can't tell you... You'd tell him... He +mustn't find me--because I--couldn't bear it." + +The mercenary came to the door. "Young woman at the door wants to see +you," she said. + +"Always somebody. Always trottin' up and down stairs. Seems like a +body never gits a chance to rest her bones.... I'm comin'. Say I'll +be right downstairs." + +In the parlor Mrs. Moody found a young woman of a world with which +boarding houses have little acquaintance. She glanced through the +window, and saw beside the curb a big car with a liveried chauffeur. +"I vum!" she said to herself. + +"I'm Mrs. Moody, miss," she said. "What's wanted?" + +"I'm looking for a friend... I'm just inquiring here because you're +on my list of boarding houses. I guess I've asked at two hundred if +I've asked at one." + +"What's your friend's name? Man or woman?" + +"Her name is Foote. Ruth Foote." + +"No such person here... We got Richards and Brown and Judson, and a +lot of 'em, but no Foote." + +The young woman sighed. "I'm getting discouraged.... I am afraid +she's ill somewhere. It's been months, and I can't find a trace. +She's such a little thing, too.... Maybe she's changed her name. +Quite likely." + +"Is she hidin' away?" asked Mrs. Moody. + +"Yes--you might say that. Not hiding because she DID anything, but +because--her heart was broken." + +"Um!... Little, was she? Sort of peaked and thin?" + +"Yes." + +"Ever hear the name of Frazer?" + +"Why, Mrs. Moody--do you--That was her name before she was married +..." + +"You come along with me," ordered Mrs. Moody, and led the way up the +stairs. "Be sort of quietlike. She's sick..." + +Mrs. Moody opened Ruth's door and pointed in. "Is it her?" she asked. + +Hilda did not answer. She was across the room in an instant and on +her knees beside the bed. + +"Ruth!... Ruth!... how could you?..." she cried. + +Ruth turned her head slowly and looked at Hilda. There was no light +of gladness in her eyes; instead they were veiled with trouble. +"Hilda..." she said. "I didn't--want to be found. Go away and--and +unfind me." + +"You poor baby!... You poor, absurd, silly baby!" said Hilda, +passing her arm under Ruth's shoulders and drawing the wasted little +body to her closely. "I've looked for you, and looked. You've no idea +the trouble you've made for me... And now I'm going to take you +home. I'm going to snatch you up and bundle you off." + +"No," said Ruth, weakly. "Nobody must know... HE--mustn't know." + +"Fiddlesticks!" "Do you know?... He's done something--but it wasn't +for me... I didn't have ANYTHING to do with it... Do you know what +he's done?" + +"I know," said Hilda. "It was splendid. Dad's all worked up over it, +but I think it is splendid just the same." "Splendid," said Ruth, +slowly, thoughtfully--"splendid... Yes, that's it--SPLENDID." She +seemed childishly pleased to discover the word, and repeated it again +and again. + +Presently she turned her eyes up to Hilda's face, lifted a white, +blue-veined, almost transparent hand, and touched Hilda's face. "I"-- +she seemed to have difficulty to find a word, but she smiled like a +tiny little girl--"I--LIKE you," she said, triumphantly. "I'm--sorry +you came--but I--like you." + +"Yes, dear," said Hilda. "You'd BETTER like me." + +"But," said Ruth, evidently striving to express a differentiation, +"I--LOVE him." + +Hilda said nothing; there was nothing she could say, but her eyes +brimmed at the pitifulness of it. She abhorred tears. + +"I'm going now, dear," she said. "I'll fix things for you and be back +in no time to take you home with me.... So be all ready." + +"No..." said Ruth. + +"Yes," Hilda laughed. "You'll help, won't you, Mrs. Moody?" + +"Hain't no way out of it, I calc'late," said the woman. + +"I won't be half an hour, Ruth... Good-by." + +But Ruth had turned away her face and would not answer. + +"Say," said Mrs. Moody, in a fever of curiosity which could not be +held in check after they had passed outside of Ruth's room, "who is +she, anyhow?... SOMEBODY, I'll perdict. Hain't she somebody?" + +"She's Mrs. Foote... Mrs. Bonbright Foote." + +"I SWAN to man!... And me settin' there readin' to her about him. If +it don't beat all... Him with all them millions, and her without so +much as a nest like them beasts and birds of the air, in Scripture. I +never expected nothin' like this would ever happen to me..." Hilda +saw that Mrs. Moody was glorifying God in her heart that this amazing +adventure, this bit out of a romance, had come into her drab life. + +"Is that there your auto?" Mrs. Moody asked, peering out with awe at +the liveried chauffeur. + +Hilda nodded. "And who be you, if I might ask?" Mrs. Moody said. + +"My name is Hilda Lightener, Mrs. Moody." + +"Not that automobile man's daughter--the one they call the automobile +king?" + +"They call dad lots of things," said Hilda, with a sympathetic laugh. +She liked Mrs. Moody. "I'll be back directly," she said, and left the +good woman standing in an attitude suggestive of mental prostration, +actually, literally, gasping at this marvel that had blossomed under +her very eyes. + +As Hilda's car moved away she turned, picked up her skirts, and ran +toward the kitchen. The news was bursting out of her. She was leaking +it along the way as she sought the mercenary to pour it into her +ears. + +Hilda was driving, not to her home, but to Bonbright Foote's office. + + + + +CHAPTER XXXV + + +Dulac was on his way to Bonbright's office, too. He had started +before Hilda, and arrived before she did. If he had been asked why he +was going, it is doubtful if he could have told. He was going because +he had to go... with fresh, burning hatred of Bonbright in his +heart. Bonbright was always the obstacle he encountered. Bonbright +upset every calculation, brought his every plan to nothing. He +believed it was Bonbright who had broken the first strike, that +strike upon which he had pinned such high hopes and which meant so +much to labor. It had been labor's entering wedge into the automobile +world. Then Bonbright had married the girl he loved. Some men can +hate sufficiently for that cause alone... Ruth had loved him, but +she had married Bonbright. He had gone to take her away, had seen her +yielding to him--and Bonbright had come. Again he had intervened. And +now, better equipped than for the first strike, with chances of +success multiplied, Bonbright had intervened again--with his plan. + +Dulac did not consider the plan; did not perceive virtues in it, not +the intent that was behind it. He did not see that labor was getting +without effort benefits that no strike could bring. He did not see +the happiness that it brought to thousands... All he saw was that it +had killed the new strike before birth. He regarded it as sharp +practice, as a scheme for his undoing. The thing he fought for was +the principle of unionization. Nothing else mattered; not money, not +comforts, not benefits multiplied could weigh against it... He was +true to his creed, honest in its prosecution, sincere in his beliefs +and in his efforts to uplift the conditions of his fellow men. He was +a fanatic, let it be admitted, but a fanatic who suffered and labored +for his cause. He was stigmatized as a demagogue, and many of the +attributes of the demagogue adhered to him. But he was not a +demagogue, for he sought nothing for himself... His great +shortcoming was singleness of vision. He fixed his eyes upon one +height and was unable to see surrounding peaks. + +So he was going to see the man who had come between him and every +object he had striven for... And he did not know why. He followed +impulse, as he was prone to follow impulse. Restraints were not for +him; he was a thinker, he believed, and after his fashion he WAS a +thinker.... But his mind was equipped with no stabilizer. + +The impulse to see Bonbright was conceived in hatred and born in +bitterness. It was such an impulse as might, in its turn, breed +children capable of causing a calloused world to pause an instant on +its way and gasp with horror. + +He brushed aside the boy who asked his business with Mr. Foote, and +flung open Bonbright's door. On the threshold he stood speechless, +tense with hatred, eyes that smoldered with jealousy, with rage, +burning in hollows dug by weariness and labor and privation. He +closed the door behind him slowly. + +Bonbright looked up and nodded. Dulac did not reply, but stared, +crouching a little, his lips drawn a trifle back so that a glint of +white showed between. + +"You wanted to see me?" said Bonbright. + +"Yes," said Dulac. The word was spoken so low, so tensely, that it +hardly reached Bonbright's ears. That was all. He said no more, but +stood, haggard and menacing. + +Bonbright eyed him, saw his drawn face, saw the hatred in his eyes. +Neither spoke, but eye held eye. Bonbright's hand moved toward a +button on his desk, but did not touch it. Somehow he was not +surprised, not startled, not afraid--yet he knew there was danger. A +word, a movement, might unleash the passions that seethed within +Dulac.... + +Dulac stepped one step toward Bonbright, and paused. The movement was +catlike, graceful. It had not been willed by Dulac. He had been drawn +that step as iron is drawn to magnet. His eyes did not leave +Bonbright's. Bonbright's eyes did not leave Dulac's. + +It seemed minutes before Dulac made another forward movement, slowly, +not lifting his foot, but sliding it along the rug to its new +position.... Then immovability.... Then another feline approach. +Step after step, with that tense pause between--and silence! + +It seemed to Bonbright that Dulac had been in the room for hours, had +taken hours to cross it to his desk. Now only the desk separated +them, and Dulac bent forward, rested his clenched fists on the desk, +and held Bonbright's eyes with the fire of his own.... His body +moved now, bending from the waist. Not jerkily, not pausing, but +slowly, slowly, as if he were being forced downward by a giant hand. +... His face approached Bonbright's face. And still no word, no +sound. + +Now his right hand moved, lifted. He supported his weight on his left +arm. The right moved toward Bonbright, opening as it moved. There was +something inexorable about its movement, something that seemed to say +it did not move by Dulac's will, but that it had been ordained so to +move since the beginning of time.... It approached and opened, +fingers bent clawlike. + +Bonbright remained motionless. It seemed to him that all the conflict +of the ages had centered itself in this man and himself; as if they +were the chosen champions, and the struggle had been left to them... +He was ready. He did not seek to avoid it, because it seemed +inevitable. There could never be peace between him and Dulac, and, +strangely enough, the thought was present in his brain that the thing +was symbolical. He was the champion of his class, Dulac the champion +of HIS class--between which there could never be peace and agreement +so long as the classes existed. He wondered if himself and Dulac had +been appointed to abolish each other... In those vibrating seconds +Bonbright saw and comprehended much. + +The hand still approached. + +Bonbright saw a change in the fire of Dulac's eyes, a sudden +upleaping blaze, and braced himself for the surge of resistance, the +shock of combat. + +The door opened unheeded by either, and Hilda stood in the opening. + +"I've found her..." she said. + +Dulac uttered a gulping gasp and closed his eyes, that had been +unwinking, closed his eyes a moment, and with their closing the +tenseness went out of him and he sagged downward so that his body +rested on the desk. Bonbright shoved himself back and leaped to his +feet. + +"Hilda..." he said, and his voice was tired; the voice of a man who +has undergone the ultimate strain. + +"I've found her. She's ill--terribly ill. You must go to her." + +Dulac raised himself and looked at her. + +"You've found--HER?" he said. + +"We must go to her," said Bonbright. He was not speaking to Hilda, +but to Dulac. It seemed natural, inevitable, that Dulac should go +with him. Dulac was IN this, a part of it. Ruth and Dulac and he were +the three actors in this thing, and it was their lives that pivoted +about it. + +They went down to the car silently, Dulac breathing deeply, like a +man who had labored to weariness. In silence they drove to Mrs. +Moody's boarding house, and in silence they climbed the stairs to +Ruth's little room. Mrs. Moody hovered about behind them, and the +mercenary sheltered her body behind the kitchen door, her head +through the narrow opening, looking as if she were ready to pop it +back at the least startling movement. + +The three entered softly. Ruth seemed to be sleeping, for her eyes +were closed and she was very still. Bonbright stood at one side of +her bed, Dulac stood across from him, but they were unconscious of +each other. Both were looking downward upon Ruth. She opened her +eyes, saw Bonbright standing over her; shut them again and moved her +head impatiently. Again she opened her eyes, and looked from +Bonbright to Dulac. Her lips parted, her eyes widened... She pointed +a trembling finger at Dulac. + +"Not you..." she whispered. "Not you... HIM." She moved her finger +until it indicated Bonbright. + +"I don't--believe you're--really there... either of you," she said, +"but I--like to have--YOU here.... You're my husband.... I LOVE my +husband," she said, and nodded her head. + +"BONBRIGHT!" whispered Hilda. + +He did not need the admonition, but was on his knees beside her, +drawing her to him. He could not speak. Ruth sighed as she felt his +touch. "You're REAL," she whispered. "Is he real, too?" + +"We're all real, dear," said Hilda. + +"Ask HIM--please to go away, then," Ruth said, pointing to Dulac. "I +don't want to--hurt him... but he knows I--don't want him...." + +"Ruth!" Dulac's utterance was a groan. + +"YOU know--don't you, Hilda?... I told you--a long time ago... I +never loved--HIM at all. Isn't that--queer?... I thought I did--but- +-I didn't know... It was something else... You won't feel too bad +... will you?" + +Ruth looked up at Dulac. "I think you--better--go," she said, gently. +He looked at Ruth, looked at Bonbright. Then he turned and, stumbling +a little as he went, fumbling, to open the door, he obeyed. They +listened in silence to the slow descent of his footsteps; to the +opening and closing of the door, as Dulac passed out into the street. + +"Poor--man!" said Ruth. + +"Bonbright," said Hilda, "do you believe me now?" + +He nodded. Hilda moved toward the door. "If you want her--cure her +... Nobody else can. You've got the only medicine." And she left them +alone. + +"I--loved you all the time, but... I didn't know... I was going... +to tell you... and then HE died. Hilda knows. You'll... believe me, +won't you?" + +"Yes," was all he could say. + +"And you... want me back? You... want me to be your... wife?" + +"Yes." + +She sighed happily. "I'll get... well, then... It wasn't worth the +--the BOTHER before." + +Neither of them spoke for a time; then she said: "I saw about it... +in the papers. It was... splendid." She used proudly the word Hilda +had found for her. "I was... proud." + +Then: "You haven't... said anything. Isn't there... something you +... ought to say?" + +He bent over closer and whispered it in her ear, not once, but many +times. She shut her eyes, but her lips smiled and her fragile arms +drew his head even closer, her white hand stroked his cheek. + +"If it's all... REAL," she said, "why don't you... KISS me?" + +Words were not for him. Here was a moment when those symbols for +thoughts which we have agreed upon and called words, could not +express what must be expressed. As there are tones too high or too +low to be sounded on any instrument, so too there are thoughts too +tender to be expressed by words. + +"Do you really... WANT me?" She wanted to be told and told again and +again. "I'll be a... nice wife," she said. "I promise... I think +we'll be... very happy." + +"Yes," he said. + +"I'll never... run away any more... will I?" + +"No." + +"You'll--keep me CLOSE?" + +"Yes." + +"Always?" + +"Always." + +"And you won't... remember ANYTHING?" + +"Nothing you don't want me to." + +"Tell me again... Put your... lips close to my ear... like that +... now tell me... + +"I think I'll... sleep a little now... You won't run away--while my +eyes are shut?" + +"Never," he said. + +"Let me put my head... on your arm... like that." She closed her +eyes, and then opened them to smile up at him. "This is... so nice," +she said. + +When she opened her eyes again Bonbright was still there. He had not +moved... Her smile blossomed for him again, and it was something +like her old, famous smile, but sweeter, more tender. + +"I didn't... dream a bit of it," she said to herself. + +Hilda came in. "We're going to take her to our house, Bonbright, till +she gets well. That's best, isn't it?" + +"Yes." + +"You'll come, won't you, Ruth--now?" + +"If my... husband comes, too," she said. + + + + +CHAPTER XXXVI + + +Ruth's strength returned miraculously, for it had not been her body +that was ill, but her soul, and her soul was well now and at peace. +Once she had thought that just to be at peace would be perfect bliss. +She knew better now, for she was at peace, and happiness was hers, +besides.... It was pitiful how she clung to Bonbright, how she held +him back when he would be leaving in the morning, and how she watched +the door for his return. + +Bonbright knew peace, too. Sometimes it seemed that the conflict was +over for him and that he had sailed into a sure and quiet haven where +no storm could reach him again. All that he had lacked was his; +independence was his and the possibility of developing his own +individualism. The ghosts of the ancestors were laid; Bonbright +Foote, Incorporated, was no longer a mold that sought to grasp him +and turn him into something he was not and did not wish to be. The +plan was proving itself, demonstrating its right to be. Even Malcolm +Lightener was silenced, for the thing marched. It possessed vitals. +Nor had it upset business, as Lightener once predicted. After the +first tumult and flurry labor had settled back into its old ways. The +man who worked for Bonbright Foote was envied, and that man and his +family prospered and knew a better, bigger life. The old antagonism +of his employees had vanished and he had become a figure to call out +their enthusiasm. He believed every man of them was his friend, and, +more than that, he believed he had found the solution to the great +problem. He believed he had found a way of bringing together capital +and labor so that they would lie down together like the millennial +lion and lamb... All these things made for peace. But in addition he +had Ruth's love, and that brought back his old boyishness, gave him +something he had never had before, even in his youth--a love of life, +a love of living, a gladness that awoke with him and accompanied him +through his days. + +When Ruth was able to sit up they began to lay out their future and +to plan plans. Already Bonbright was building a home, and the delight +they had from studying architect's drawings and changing the position +of baths and doors and closets and porches was unbelievable. Then +came the furnishing of it, and at last the moving into it. + +"I'm almost glad it all happened," Ruth said. + +"Yes," said Bonbright. + +"We'd have been just ordinarily happy if we'd started like other +folks... But to have gone through that--and come into all this!..." + +"Let's not remember it," he said. Then: "Ruth, you never make any +suggestions--about the men. You know lots more about them than I do. +You were born among them. But you just listen to me when I talk to +you, and never offer a word." + +"I--I've been afraid to," she said. + +"Afraid?" + +"Yes... Don't you remember? It might look as if..." + +He silenced her, knowing what was her thought. "I'll never think +anything about you that isn't so," he said. + +"Then I'll suggest--when I think of anything. But I couldn't have +suggested any of it. I couldn't have dreamed it or hoped it. Nothing +I could have asked for them would have been as--as splendid as this." + +"You believe in it?" + +"More than that. I've been into their homes. They were glad to see +me. It was wonderful... Enough to eat, cleanliness, mothers at home +with their babies instead of out washing, no boarders... And no +worries. That was best. They showed me their bank accounts, or how +they were buying homes, and how quickly they were paying for them... +And I was proud when I thought it was my husband that did it." + +"Lightener says it looks all right now, but it won't last. He says +it's impractical." + +"He doesn't know. How could he know as well as you do? Aren't you the +greatest man in the world?" She said it half laughingly, but in her +heart she meant it. + +She loved to talk business with him; to hear about the new mills and +how they were turning out engines. She discussed his project of +enlarging further, perhaps of manufacturing automobiles himself, and +urged him on. "It will give work to more men, and bring more men +under the plan," she said. That was her way of looking at it. + +Hilda came often, and laughed at them, but she loved them. + +"Just kids," she jeered, but she envied them and told them so. And +then, because she deserved it, there came a man into her own life, +and he loved her and she loved him. Whereupon Bonbright and Ruth +returned her jeers with interest. + +More than a year went by, a year of perfection. Then came a cloud on +the horizon. Even five dollars a day and the plan did not seem to +content labor, and Bonbright became aware of it. Dulac was active +again, or, rather, he had always been active. Discontent manifested +itself.... It grew, and had to be repressed. In spite of the plan-- +in spite of everything, a strike threatened, became imminent. + +Ruth was thunderstruck, Bonbright bewildered. His panacea was not a +panacea, then. He studied the plan to better it, and did make minor +improvements, but in its elements it was just, fair. Bonbright could +not understand, but Malcolm Lightener understood and the professor of +sociology understood. + +"I can't understand it," Bonbright said to them. + +"Huh!" grunted Lightener. "It's just this: You're capital, and +they're labor. That's it in a nutshell." + +"But it's fair." + +"To be sure it's fair--as fair as a thing can be. But the fact +remains. Capital and labor can't get together as long as they remain +capital and labor." + +The professor nodded. "You've said the thing that is, Mr. Lightener. +But it's deeper than that. It's the inevitable surge upward of +humanity. You rich men try to become richer. That is natural. You are +reaching up. Labor has a long way to climb to reach you, but it wants +to reach you. Perhaps it doesn't know it, but it does. As long as a +height remains to be climbed to, man will try to climb... Class +exists. The employer class and the employed. So long as one man can +boss another; so long as one man can say to another, 'Do this or do +that,' there will be conflict. Everybody, whether he knows it or not, +wants to be his own boss, and by as much as he is bossed he is galled +... It can never be otherwise..." + +"You knew from the beginning I would fail," said Bonbright. + +"You haven't failed, my boy. You've done a fine thing; but you +haven't solved a problem that has no solution... You are upset by it +now, but after a while you'll see it and the disappointment will go. +But you haven't failed... I don't believe you will ever understand +all you have accomplished." + +But Bonbright was unhappy, and he carried his unhappiness to his +wife. "It's all been futile," he said. + +She was wiser than he. "No," she said, hotly, "it's been wonderful +... Nothing was ever more wonderful. I've told you how I've visited +them and seen the new happiness--seen women happy who had never been +happy before; seen comfort where there had been nothing but misery +... It's anything but futile, dear. You've done your best--and it was +a splendid best... If it doesn't do all you hoped, that's no sign of +failure. I'm satisfied, dear." + +"They want something I can't give them." + +"Nobody can give it to them... It's the way things are. I think I +understand what the professor said. It's true. You've given all you +can and done all you can.... You'd have to be God and create a new +world... Don't you see?" + +"I see..." he said. "I see..." + +"And you won't be unhappy about it?" + +He smiled. "I'm like the men, I guess. I want more than the world has +to give me... I don't blame them. They're right." + +"Yes," she said, "they're right." + +It was not many weeks after this that Bonbright sat, frightened and +anxious, in the library--waiting. A nurse appeared in the door and +motioned. She smiled, and a weight passed from his heart. + +Bonbright followed into Ruth's room, pausing timidly at the door. + +"Come in, come in, young man. I have the pleasure to announce the +safe arrival of Bonbright Foote VIII." + +Bonbright looked at Ruth, who smiled up at him and shook her head. + +"Not Bonbright Foote VIII, doctor," said Bonbright, as he moved +toward his wife and son. "Plain Bonbright Foote. There are no +numerals in this family. Everyone who is born into it stands by +himself... I'll have no ancestors hanging around my boy's neck..." + +"I know it," Ruth whispered in his ear, "but I was a--a teeny bit-- +afraid. He's OURS--but he's more than that. He's HIS OWN... as God +wants every man to be." + +THE END + + + + + + + +End of the Project Gutenberg EBook of Youth Challenges, by Clarence B Kelland + +*** END OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK YOUTH CHALLENGES *** + +This file should be named ythch10.txt or ythch10.zip +Corrected EDITIONS of our eBooks get a new NUMBER, ythch11.txt +VERSIONS based on separate sources get new LETTER, ythch10a.txt + +Produced by Charles Franks and the Online Distributed Proofreading Team. + +Project Gutenberg eBooks are often created from several printed +editions, all of which are confirmed as Public Domain in the US +unless a copyright notice is included. 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