shoes."

"I'm sure I could step into his shoes," she replied. "Only I hope he
won't die."

"I hope he won't, either," said Ditmar. "And as for you--"

"Never mind me, now," she said.

He bent over her.

"Janet, you're the greatest girl in the world."

Yes, she was happiest when she felt she was helping him, it gave her
confidence that she could do more, lead him into paths beyond which they
might explore together. She was useful. Sometimes, however, he seemed
to her oversanguine; though he had worked hard, his success had come
too easily, had been too uniform. His temper was quick, the prospect of
opposition often made him overbearing, yet on occasions he listened with
surprising patience to his subordinates when they ventured to differ
from his opinions. At other times Janet had seen him overrule them
ruthlessly; humiliate them. There were days when things went wrong, when
there were delays, complications, more matters to attend to than usual.
On one such day, after the dinner hour, Mr. Orcutt entered the office.
His long, lean face wore a certain expression Janet had come to know,
an expression that always irritated Ditmar--the conscientious
superintendent having the unfortunate faculty of exaggerating annoyances
by his very bearing. Ditmar stopped in the midst of dictating a
peculiarly difficult letter, and looked up sharply.

"Well," he asked, "what's the trouble now?"

Orcutt seemed incapable of reading storm signals. When anything
happened, he had the air of declaring, "I told you so."

"You may remember I spoke to you once or twice, Mr. Ditmar, of the talk
over the fifty-four hour law that goes into effect in January."

"Yes, what of it?" Ditmar cut in. "The notices have been posted, as the
law requires."

"The hands have been grumbling, there are trouble makers among them. A
delegation came to me this noon and wanted to know whether we intended
to cut the pay to correspond to the shorter working hours."

"Of course it's going to be cut," said Ditmar. "What do they suppose?
That we're going to pay 'em for work they don't do? The hands not paid
by the piece are paid practically by the hour, not by the day. And
there's got to be some limit to this thing. If these damned demagogues
in the legislature keep on cutting down the hours of women and children
every three years or so--and we can't run the mill without the women and
children--we might as well shut down right now. Three years ago, when
they ma