merely an experimenter.
However, they treated lightly Bennington's threat to demolish the
shops. No man in his right mind would commit so childish an act. It
would be revenge of a reactive order, fool matching fools, whereas
Bennington ought to be more magnanimous. The labor unions called
special meetings, and with one or two exceptions voted to stand by the
action of the men.

There was positively no politics behind this strike; everybody
understood that; at least, everybody thought he understood. But there
were some who smiled mysteriously and wagged their heads. One thing
was certain; Bennington's friend, Warrington would lose many hundred
votes in November. For everybody knew which way the Republican
convention would go; there was nobody in sight but Warrington.

Bennington and Mrs. Jack dined at the old home that evening. There was
plenty of gloom and forced gaiety around the board. John pretended
that he was well out of a bad job; he was not a dreamer nor a
socialist, not he; Utopia was not for the iron age. He told stories,
joked and laughed, and smoked frequently. No one but the mother had
the courage to ask if he really meant to tear down the mills. She came
around the table, smoothed his hair as she had done since he was a
boy, and leaned over his chair.

"John?"

"Well, mother mine?"

"Shall you really do it?"

"Do what?"

"Tear it down."

He did not answer at once, and she waited, trembling.

"You would not have me take back my words to the men, would you,
mother?" quietly.

"Your father loved the place."

"And do I not?" a note of strong passion in his voice. "I shall tear
it down, if I live. Do not ask me anything more about it. Has Dick
been over to-day?"

"He telephoned that he would be over after dinner. He wants you to go
to the speech-making to-night." Patty rose from her seat at the table.

"Patty," said John, rather surprised at his discovery, "you are almost
a woman!"

"You men never see anything quickly," said Mrs. Jack. "Patty has been
a beautiful woman for several months."

Patty started, restrained the impulse to speak, and searched Mrs.
Jack's face. But Mrs. Jack had eyes for no one but John. Her thought
was far removed from her words. That telephone message rang in her
ears every hour of the day. One moment she was on the verge of telling
John, the next she dared not. What had that wretch found out? What
could he have found out? A lie; it could be nothing more nor less