aroused in her a
responsive sense of championship.

"All right, Ditmar," she heard the other exclaim. "I tell you again
you'll never be able to pull it off."

Ditmar's laugh was short, defiant.

"Why not?" he asked.

"Why not! Because the fifty-four hour law goes into effect in January."

"What's that got to do with it?" Ditmar demanded.

"You'll see--you'll remember what I told you fellows at the conference
after that bill went through and that damned demagogue of a governor
insisted on signing it. I said, if we tried to cut wages down to a
fifty-four hour basis we'd have a strike on our hands in every mill in
Hampton,--didn't I? I said it would cost us millions of dollars, and make
all the other strikes we've had here look like fifty cents. Didn't I say
that? Hammond, our president, backed me up, and Rogers of the wool
people. You remember? You were the man who stood out against it, and they
listened to you, they voted to cut down the pay and say nothing about it.
Wait until those first pay envelopes are opened after that law goes into
effect. You'll see what'll happen! You'll never be able to fill that
Bradlaugh order in God's world."

"Oh hell," retorted Ditmar, contemptuously. "You're always for lying
down, Holster. Why don't you hand over your mill to the unions and go to
work on a farm? You might as well, if you're going to let the unions run
the state. Why not have socialism right now, and cut out the agony? When
they got the politicians to make the last cut from fifty-six to
fifty-four and we kept on payin' 'em for fifty-six, against my advice,
what happened? Did they thank us? I guess not. Were they contented? Not
on your life. They went right on agitating, throwing scares into the
party conventions and into the House and Senate Committees,--and now it's
fifty-four hours. It'll be fifty in a couple of years, and then we'll
have to scrap our machinery and turn over the trade to the South and
donate our mills to the state for insane asylums."

"No, if we handle this thing right, we'll have the public on our side.
They're getting sick of the unions now."

Ditmar went to the desk for a cigar, bit it off, and lighted it.

"The public!" he exclaimed contemptuously. "A whole lot of good they'll
do us."

Holster approached him, menacingly, until the two men stood almost
touching, and for a moment it seemed to Janet as if the agent of the
Clarendon were ready to strike Ditmar. She held her breath, her bloo