a quiet smile. "It is just such men
as you, Mr. Hartrath, that are the ruin of us. You organise a sham of
tinsel and pasteboard, put on fool's cap and bells, beat a gong at a
street corner, and the crowd cheers you and drops nickels into your hat.
Your ginger-bread fete; yes, I saw it in full blast the other night on
the grounds of one of your women's places on Sutter Street. I was on my
way home from the last board meeting of the Atlas Company. A gingerbread
fete, my God! and the Atlas plant shutting down for want of financial
backing. A million dollars spent to attract the Eastern investor, in
order to show him an abandoned rolling mill, wherein the only activity
is the sale of remnant material and scrap steel."

Lyman, however, interfered. The situation was becoming strained. He
tried to conciliate the three men--the artist, the manufacturer, and the
farmer, the warring elements. But Hartrath, unwilling to face the enmity
that he felt accumulating against him, took himself away. A picture of
his--"A Study of the Contra Costa Foot-hills"--was to be raffled in the
club rooms for the benefit of the Fair. He, himself, was in charge of
the matter. He disappeared.

Cedarquist looked after him with contemplative interest. Then, turning
to Magnus, excused himself for the acridity of his words.

"He's no worse than many others, and the people of this State and city
are, after all, only a little more addle-headed than other Americans."
It was his favourite topic. Sure of the interest of his hearers, he
unburdened himself.

"If I were to name the one crying evil of American life, Mr. Derrick,"
he continued, "it would be the indifference of the better people to
public affairs. It is so in all our great centres. There are other great
trusts, God knows, in the United States besides our own dear P. and S.
W. Railroad. Every State has its own grievance. If it is not a railroad
trust, it is a sugar trust, or an oil trust, or an industrial trust,
that exploits the People, BECAUSE THE PEOPLE ALLOW IT. The indifference
of the People is the opportunity of the despot. It is as true as that
the whole is greater than the part, and the maxim is so old that it is
trite--it is laughable. It is neglected and disused for the sake of
some new ingenious and complicated theory, some wonderful scheme of
reorganisation, but the fact remains, nevertheless, simple, fundamental,
everlasting. The People have but to say 'No,' and not the strongest
tyr