must be lived. Let us get ready to live it sensibly. Let
us build our social system so that it will stand the wear and tear of
another day and will not fall in ruins about our heads.'"

"I am terribly ignorant about all these things," said Jane. "What a
ridiculous thing my education has been!"

"But it hasn't spoiled your heart," cried Selma. And all at once her
eyes were wonderfully soft and tender, and into her voice came a tone
so sweet that Jane's eyes filled with tears. "It was to your heart that
I came to appeal," she went on. "Oh, Miss Hastings--we will do all we
can to protect Victor Dorn--and we guard him day and night without his
knowing it. But I am afraid--afraid! And I want you to help. Will
you?"

"I'll do anything I can," said Jane--a Jane very different from the
various Janes Miss Hastings knew--a Jane who seemed to be conjuring of
Selma Gordon's enchantments.

"I want you to ask your father to give him a fair show. We don't ask
any favors--for ourselves--for him. But we don't want to see him--"
Selma shuddered and covered her eyes with her hands "--lying dead in
some alley, shot or stabbed by some unknown thug!"

Selma made it so vivid that Jane saw the whole tragedy before her very
eyes.

"The real reason why they hate him," Selma went on, "is because he
preaches up education and preaches down violence--and is building his
party on intelligence instead of on force. The masters want the
workingman who burns and kills and riots. They can shoot him down.
They can make people accept any tyranny in preference to the danger of
fire and murder let loose. But Victor is teaching the workingmen to
stop playing the masters' game for them. No wonder they hate him! He
makes them afraid of the day when the united workingmen will have their
way by organizing and voting. And they know that if Victor Dorn lives,
that day will come in this city very, very soon." Selma saw Davy Hull,
impatient at his long wait, advancing toward them. She said: "You will
talk to your father?"

"Yes," said Jane. "And I assure you he will do what he can. You don't
know him, Miss Gordon."

"I know he loves you--I know he MUST love you," said Selma. "Now, I
must go. Good-by. I knew you would be glad of the chance to do
something worth while."

Jane had been rather expecting to be thanked for her generosity and
goodness. Selma's remark seemed at first blush an irritating attempt
to shift a favor asked into a fav