lly been no strike at all, since the owner had simply
closed down the shops, torn down a few walls, sold the machinery and
ore, and canceled all his business obligations. No sensation, however
vital, lasts very long these days; and after these nine days it turned
its attention to other things, this mutable public. Employers,
however, and union leaders, all over the continent, went about their
affairs thoughtfully. If one man could do this unheard-of thing, so
might others, now that an example had been set before them. The
dispersed men harbored no ill feeling toward Morrissy; he, as they
supposed, had acted in good faith for the welfare of the union. But
for the man who had had the courage to make good his threats, for him
they had nothing but bitterness and hate.

Patty would always remember that final night of the strike when John
had come in early in the morning, his clothes torn, his hands bloody,
his hair matted to his forehead, and hatless. He had been last to
leave the shops, and he had, unarmed, run the gantlet of the maddened
strikers who had been held at bay for six long hours. Only his great
strength and physical endurance had pulled him out of the arms of
violent death. There had been no shot fired from the shops. The
strikers saw the utter futility of forcing armed men, so they had hung
about with gibe and ribald jeer, waiting for some one careless enough
to pass them alone. This Bennington did. His men had forgotten him.
Bennington's injuries had been rather trivial; it had been his
personal appearance that had terrified the women. He had fallen asleep
half an hour after reaching home, and he had slept till nine that
evening. Upon awakening he had begun at once to plan a trip to Europe,
to wander from capital to capital for a year or so. No one had
interrupted him; not even the mother, grown old in the past month, had
demurred at his plans. He would have none near him but Kate, and she
had hovered about him, ministering to his wants as a mother over a
sick child. ... Kate! It all came back with a rush. Kate! Oh, what was
she, Patty, to believe? That night she had loved Kate almost to
idolatry. She shuddered, turned away from the ruins, and set off at a
gallop till she came upon brick pavement. She rarely trotted upon
pavement, but this morning she had no thought for the horse; she
burned to be at work. She trotted rapidly into town, across the
principal thoroughfares, this way being the short cut. By this