t, as the statement of their case by the
workers. Parker would endeavor to find, in all this heap of words, the
irritation points of the other side.

"But when a study was finished, his diagnosis made, and his prescription
of treatment completed, Parker always insisted in carrying it straight
to the workers. And he did not just tell them results. He often took
several hours, sometimes several meetings of several hours each. In
these meetings he would go over every detail of his method, from start
to finish, explaining, answering questions, meeting objections with
reason. And he always won them over. But, of course, it must be said
that he had a tremendously compelling personality that carried him far."

CHAPTER XIV

At the end of August the little family was united again in Seattle.
Almost the clearest picture of Carl I have is the eager look with which
he scanned the people stepping out of our car at the station, and the
beam that lit up his face as he spied us. There is a line in Dorothy
Canfield's "Bent Twig" that always appealed to us. The mother and father
were separated for a few days, to the utter anguish of the father
especially, and he remarked, "It's Hell to be happily married!" Every
time we were ever separated we felt just that.

In one of Carl's letters from Seattle he had written: "The 'Atlantic
Monthly' wants me to write an article on the I.W.W.!!" So the first
piece of work he had to do after we got settled was that. We were
tremendously excited, and never got over chuckling at some of the
moss-grown people we knew about the country who would feel outraged at
the "Atlantic Monthly" stooping to print stuff by that young radical.
And on such a subject! How we tore at the end, to get the article off on
time! The stenographer from the University came about two one Sunday
afternoon. I sat on the floor up in the guest-room and read the
manuscript to her while she typed it off. Carl would rush down more copy
from his study on the third floor. I'd go over it while Miss Van Doren
went over what she had typed. Then the reading would begin again. We
hated to stop for supper, all three of us were so excited to get the job
done. It _had_ to be at the main post-office that night by eleven, to
arrive in Boston when promised. At ten-thirty it was in the envelope,
three limp people tore for the car, we put Miss Van Doren on,--she was
to mail the article on her way home,--and Carl and I, knowing this was
an oc