the savage tone of the
surly brute. He began again in his smoothest manner:

"I am of the opinion that the discussion of sound principles, such as
we have listened to to-night, is among the objects of our order. After
that, organization for mutual profit and protection against the minions
of the money power,--for makin' our influence felt in elections,--for
extendin' a helpin' hand to honest toil,--for rousin' our bretheren
from their lethargy, which, like a leaden pall----"

"I want to know," growled Bowersox, with sullen obstinacy, "what's to
be done."

"Put your views in the form of a motion, that they may be properly
considered by the meetin'," said the imperturbable president.

"Well, I motion that we stop talkin' and commence doin'----"

"Do you suggest that a committee be appointed for that purpose?"

"Yes, anything." And the chairman appointed Bowersox, Bott, and Folgum
such a committee.

All breathed more freely and felt as if something practical and
energetic had been accomplished. The committee would, of course, never
meet nor report, but the colloquy and the prompt action taken upon it
made every one feel that the evening had been interesting and
profitable. Before they broke up, Sleeny was asked for his initiation
fee of two dollars, and all the brethren were dunned for their monthly
dues.

"What becomes of this money?" the neophyte bluntly inquired of the
hierophant.

"It pays room rent and lights," said Offitt, with unabashed front, as
he returned his greasy wallet to his pocket. "The rest goes for
propagatin' our ideas, and especially for influencin' the press."

Sleeny was a dull man, but he made up his mind on the way home that the
question which had so long puzzled him--how Offitt made his living--was
partly solved.

VI.

TWO MEN SHAKE HANDS.

Sleeny, though a Bread-winner in full standing, was not yet
sufficiently impressed with the wrongs of labor to throw down his
hammer and saw. He continued his work upon Farnham's conservatory,
under the direction of Fergus Ferguson, the gardener, with the same
instinctive fidelity which had always characterized him. He had his
intervals of right feeling and common sense, when he reflected that
Farnham had done him no wrong, and probably intended no wrong to Maud,
and that he was not answerable for the ill luck that met him in his
wooing, for Maud had refused him before she ever saw Farnham. But, once
in a while, and especially when h