oo well
to talk much to him about the strike. While waiting in the drawing-room
for her father, knowing that George was too busy to come to her, she had
written to her lover as follows:--

At Home

_My Darling George_,--

I wish you were here safe by my side. How I hate strikes, they are so
like a family quarrel on the front porch. Everybody looks on in pity,
husband and wife calling each other names, and breaking the furniture,
and innocent little children fleeing to the neighbors for protection.
Strikes are simply horrid. Can't you stop it? Labor and capital are
like bears in a pit with sharpened teeth tearing each other's flesh. Of
what use is our so-called civilization if it permits such brutal
scenes? George, the lion in father is again aroused. There is no
telling what he will do this time.

It was cruel of the employees to stop his sale to the English
syndicate. Something terrible is going to happen. I feel it. I dreamed
about it last night before I left Niagara. You must counsel moderation.
I am so glad mother is not here to counsel severity. In the morning I
shall put my hand on father's arm, and say, "Father, I have been
praying for God to help you."

I read in the _Evening Dispatch_ that the employees claimed an increase
of their pay because promised by the company when times improved; that
the company now flatly refused to restore the old wages; that the mayor
of the city had sent fifty policemen to guard the mills, and that the
4000 employees in an enthusiastic public meeting had resolved to
continue the strike.

George, you are in a very trying position. The company of course
depends on your loyalty, and the employees also have great confidence
in your fairness. What can you do? If disloyal to the Company, you lose
your position. What more can I do, except to pray!

Above all, my dear, be loyal to your conscience and do right. Be just.
Come and see me at your earliest possible moment.

Your own loving

Gertrude.

Gertrude's brave letter reached George before ten o'clock the next
morning, and greatly cheered him. He was never more occupied, but he
snatched a moment to say in reply:

Office of The Harrisville Iron & Steel Co.

_Dearest Peacemaker_,--

Glad for your heroic letter. It sings the peace-song of the angels.
I shall be guarded in my words and actions. Good things, I hope, will
result from all this terrible com