ees from the union, and having met them, to find
himself facing the fact that, driven by some strange urge he could
not understand, the leaders wished a strike. There were times when he
wondered what would happen if he should suddenly yield every point, make
every concession. They would only make further demands, he felt. They
seemed determined to put him out of business. If only he could have
dealt with the men directly, instead of with their paid representatives,
he felt that he would get somewhere. But always, interposed between
himself and his workmen, was this barrier of their own erecting.

It was like representative government. It did not always represent.
It, too, was founded on representation in good faith; but there was not
always good faith. The union system was wrong. It was like politics. The
few handled the many. The union, with its all-powerful leaders, was only
another form of autocracy. It was Prussian. Yet the ideal behind the
union was sound enough.

He had no quarrel with the union. He puzzled it out, traveling
unaccustomed mental paths. The country was founded on liberty. All men
were created free and equal. Free, yes, but equal? Was not equality a
long way ahead along a thorny road? Men were not equal in the effort
they made, nor did equal efforts bring equal result. If there was class
antagonism behind all this unrest, would there not always be those who
rose by dint of ceaseless effort? Equality of opportunity, yes. Equality
of effort and result, no.

To destroy the chance of gain was to put a premium on inertia; to kill
ambition; to reduce the high without raising the low.

At noon on the same day Willy Cameron went back to the house on Cardew
Way, to find Lily composed and resigned, instead of the militant figure
he had expected. He asked her to go home, and she told him then that she
had no longer a home to go to.

"I meant to go, Willy," she finished. "I meant to go this morning. But
you see how things are."

He had stood for a long time, looking at nothing very hard. "I see," he
said finally. "Of course your grandfather will be sorry in a day or two,
but he may not swallow his pride very soon."

That rather hurt her.

"What about my pride?" she asked.

"You can afford to be magnanimous with all your life before you." Then
he faced her. "Besides, Lily, you're wrong. Dead wrong. You've hurt
three people, and all you've got out of it has been your own way."

"There is such a thing a