idity digest reason? He hesitated visibly, and in that hesitation
his accusers read guilt.

It was evident from a sudden, flaming red that suffused Mrs. McMahon's
expansive countenance that she was beginning to grasp the purport of
the accusations against Hamilton. She started toward her husband with a
demeanor that augured ill for peaceful conference, when she was stayed
by Cicily's grasp on her arm.

"Wait!" came the command, in a soothing voice. "Let me speak to these
foolish men. You'll only stir them up, and make them worse." The Amazon
yielded reluctantly, for she loved as well as honored the woman who had
won her friendship by so much endeavor; but there was dire warning of
things to come in the gaze she fixed on her suspicious husband.

"I'll not listen to this foolishness any longer," Cicily declared,
dearly, in a cold voice that held the attention of all. "You men are too
utterly absurd. There's no love lost between your wives and my husband,
I assure you. If you had chanced in a few minutes earlier, you would
have been well aware of the fact." Her statement was corroborated by the
vehement nods of the women and the glances of disdainful aversion that
they cast on the master of the house at this reference as to the status
of their mutual affection. "Your wives and daughters," Cicily concluded
haughtily, with a level look at the three husbands, which was not
wanting in its effect, "are my friends."

But Ferguson was not dismayed by the reproof.

"Yes, Mrs. Hamilton," he answered, with bitter emphasis, "you're the
one--we know that! You're the cat's-paw, with your clubs and your
benefits." He turned to Hamilton, and went on speaking with even greater
virulence. "It's through her that you're fighting; it's through her that
you're attacking us in our homes; it's through her that you're turning
our wives and our daughters against us until our lives are miserable
with them, morning, noon and night. They're forever talking against the
strike, trying to make us come back to you, and to take the cut. And it
ain't fair, I tell you! No honest employer would fight that way from
behind a woman's petticoats. Women haven't got any place in business,
according to our way of thinking. We didn't mind your wife's butting in
with bath-tubs and gymnasiums and libraries, and such foolish truck as
that; but, when it comes to mixing up in the strike, and organizing our
wives and daughters against us, why, we kick. That's the long