which a money-drunk class
insolently calls God-made, grows wider with each roar of musketry
aimed by a frenzied militia at helpless men and women; grows deeper
with each splitting crack of the dynamite that is laid to tear asunder
the conscienceless wielder of the goad; and must one day fall gaping
in a cavernous embouchure that will engulf a nation.

Hitt saw it, and shuddered; Haynerd, too. Ames may have dimly marked
the typhoon on the horizon, but, like everything that manifested
opposition to this superhuman will, it only set his teeth the firmer
and thickened the callous about his cold heart. Carmen saw it, too.
And she knew--and the world must some day know--that but one tie has
ever been designed adequate to bridge this yawning canon of human
hatred. That tie is love. Aye, well she knew that the world laughed,
and called it chimera; called it idealism, and emotional weakness.
And well she knew that the most pitiable weakness the world has ever
seen was the class privilege which nailed the bearer of the creed of
love upon the cross, and to-day manifests in the frantic grasping of a
nation's resources, and the ruthless murder of those who ask that
they, too, may have a share in that abundance which is the common
birthright of all. Do the political bully, the grafter, the tout, know
the meaning of love? No; but they can be taught. Oh, not by the
hypocritical millionaire pietists who prate their glib platitudes to
their Sunday Bible classes, and return to their luxurious homes to
order the slaughter of starving women and babes! They, like their poor
victims, are deep under the spell of that mesmerism which tells them
that evil is good. Nor by the Church, with its lamentable weakness of
knowledge and works. Only by those who have learned something of the
Christ-principle, and are striving daily to demonstrate its
omnipotence in part, can the world be taught a saving knowledge of the
love that solves every problem and creates a new heaven and a newer,
better concept of the earth and its fullness.

That morning when Carmen went to see Ames the Express received word of
the walk-out of the Avon mill employes. Almost coincident with the
arrival of the news, Carmen herself came unsteadily into Hitt's
office. The editor glanced up at her, then looked a second time. He
had never before seen her face colorless. Finally he laid down his
papers.

"What's happened?" he asked.

"Nothing," answered the girl. "What work have yo