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+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. Kelland
+
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