ir, I hope?" the former remarked.

"I came to listen," Maraton answered. "To tell you the truth, it's
against my views, this, an individual strike."

They were calling to him now from the front. Mr. Docker's reply was
inaudible.

"You'll have to say a few words," Dale insisted. "They'll never leave
off until you do."

Maraton nodded and turned towards the audience. He stood looking down
at them for a moment or two, without speech. Even after silence had
been established he seemed to be at a loss as to exactly what to say.
When at last he did speak, it was in an easy and conversational manner.
There was no sign of the fire or the frenzy with which he had kindled
the enthusiasms of the people of the United States.

"I find it rather hard to know exactly what to say to you," he began.
"I am glad to be here and I have come to this country to work for you,
if I may. But, you know, I have views of my own, and it isn't a very
auspicious occasion for me to stand for the first time upon an English
platform. I came as one of the audience to-night and I have listened to
all that has been said. I don't think that I am in favour of your
strike."

There was a murmur of wonder, mingled with discontent.

"Why not?" some one shouted from the back.

"Aye, why not?" a dozen voices echoed.

"I'll try and tell you, if you like," Maraton continued. "I didn't mean
to say anything until after Manchester, but I'll tell you roughly what
my scheme is. These individual strikes such as you're planning are
just like pinpricks on the hide of an elephant. How many are there of
you? A thousand, say? Well, you thousand may get a shilling or two a
week more. It won't alter your condition of life. It won't do much for
you, any way. You will have spent your money, and in a year or two the
masters will be taking it out of you some other way. A strike such as
you are proposing causes inconvenience--no more. I'd bigger things in
my mind for you."

He hesitated for a moment as though uncertain, even now, whether to go
on. Glancing around the hall, his eyes for a moment met Julia's.
Something in her still face, the almost passionate enquiry of her
wonderful eyes, seemed to decide him. He lifted up his hands, his voice
grew in volume.

"Let me tell you what I want, then. Let me tell you the dream which
others have had before me, which is laughed to scorn by the enemies of
the people, but which grows in substance and shape, year by year. I
want to