the money is going--what it's being spent on, why he's putting in
fresh plant, why his dividends ain't going to be as big this year as
they were last--all that sort of thing. Don't play the fool with
them. . . . Dividends may be bigger, and he'll have to stump up. . . .
A good many of the bosses will have to alter their ways, incidentally.
No man is going to sweat himself in order that someone else up the road
can keep a second motor car, when the man himself hasn't even a donkey
cart. You wouldn't yourself--nor would I. Up to a point it's got to
be share and share alike. Over the water the men didn't object to the
C.O. having a bedroom to himself; but what would they have said if he'd
gone on to battalion parade in a waterproof one bad day, while they
were uncloaked?"

"Yes, but who is going to decide on that vital question of money?"
pursued Vane. "Supposing the men object to the way the boss is
spending it. . . ."

The other thoughtfully filled his pipe. "Of course, there will always
be the risk of that," he said. "Seventeen and twenty per cent.
dividends will have to cease--I suppose. And after all--not being a
Croesus myself I'm not very interested--I'm blowed if I see why man
should expect more than a reasonable percentage on his money. I
believe the men would willingly agree to that if they were taken into
his confidence and sure he wasn't cooking his books. . . . But when
one reads of ten, herded together in one room, and the company paying
enormous dividends, do you wonder they jib? I would. Why shouldn't
the surplus profit above a fair dividend be split up amongst the
workmen? I'm no trade expert, Vane. Questions of supply and demand,
and tariffs and overtime, leave me quite cold. But if you're going to
get increased production, and you've got to or you're going to starve,
you can't have civil war in the concern. And to ensure that you must
have all the cards on the table. The men must understand what they're
doing; the boss must explain.

"What made a man understand the fact of dying over the water? What
made thousands of peace-loving men go on in the filth and dirt, only to
die like rats at the end. . . . What made 'em keep their tails up, and
their chests out? Why--belief and trust in their leaders. And how was
it inculcated? By sympathy--nothing more nor less. God above--if it
was possible when the stakes were life and death--can't it be done over
here in the future? The men won