od the city with "literature." We had fought many wars before this,
and we planned our campaign precisely as though we were dealing with one
of those rebellions in the realm of finance of which I have given an
instance. But now the war chest of our opponents was negligible; and we
were comforted by the thought that, however disagreeable the affair might
be while it lasted, in the long run capital was invincible.

Before setting to work to prepare my speeches it was necessary to make an
attempt to familiarize myself with the seemingly unprecedented line of
argument Krebs had evolved--apparently as disconcerting to his friends as
to his opponents. It occurred to me, since I did not care to attend
Krebs's meetings, to ask my confidential stenographer, Miss McCoy, to go
to Turner's Hall and take down one of his speeches verbatim. Miss McCoy
had never intruded on me her own views, and I took for granted that they
coincided with my own.

"I'd like to get an accurate record of what he is saying," I told her.
"Do you mind going?"

"No, I'll be glad to go, Mr. Paret," she said quietly.

"He's doing more harm than we thought," I remarked, after a moment. "I've
known him for a good many years. He's clever. He's sowing seeds of
discontent, starting trouble that will be very serious unless it is
headed off."

Miss McCoy made no comment....

Before noon the next day she brought in the speech, neatly typewritten,
and laid it on my desk. Looking up and catching her eye just as she was
about to withdraw, I was suddenly impelled to ask:--"Well, what did you
think of it?"

She actually flushed, for the first time in my dealings with her
betraying a feeling which I am sure she deemed most unprofessional.

"I liked it, Mr. Paret," she replied simply, and I knew that she had
understated. It was quite apparent that Krebs had captivated her. I tried
not to betray my annoyance.

"Was there a good audience?" I asked.

"Yes," she said.

"How many do you think?"

She hesitated.

"It isn't a very large hall, you know. I should say it would hold about
eight hundred people."

"And--it was full?"--I persisted.

"Oh, yes, there were numbers of people standing."

I thought I detected in her tone-although it was not apologetic--a desire
to spare my feelings. She hesitated a moment more, and then left the
room, closing the door softly behind her...

Presently I took up the pages and began to read. The language was simple
and direct,