bad eggs among the strikers--not the unionists proper, but a lot of
loose fish--intend to go through some of the principal houses on
Algonquin Avenue, and they mentioned yours as one of them."

"Thank you. I will try to be ready for them," said Farnham. But, cool
and tried as was his courage, he could not help remembering, with
something like dread, that Mrs. Belding's house was next to his own,
and that in case of riot the two might suffer together.

"There is one thing more I wanted to say," Mr. Temple continued, with a
slight embarrassment. "If I can be of any service to you, in case of a
row, I want to be allowed to help."

"As to that," Farnham said with a laugh, "you have your own house and
stables to look after, which will probably be as much as you can
manage."

"No," said Temple, earnestly, "that ain't the case. I will have to
explain to you"--and a positive blush came to his ruddy face. "They
won't touch me or my property. They say a man who uses such good horses
and such bad language as I do--that's just what they say--is one of
them, and sha'n't be racketed. I ain't very proud of my popularity, but
I am willing to profit by it and I'll come around and see you if
anything more turns up. Now, we'll go and give Phrasy Dallas that glass
of champagne."

XII.

A HOLIDAY NOT IN THE CALENDAR.

The next morning while Farnham was at breakfast he received a note from
Mr. Temple in these words:

"Strikes will begin to-day, but will not be general. There will be no
disturbance, I think. They don't seem very gritty."

After breakfast he walked down to the City Hall. On every street corner
he saw little groups of men in rather listless conversation. He met an
acquaintance crossing the street.

"Have you heard the news?" The man's face was flushed with pleasure at
having something to tell--"The firemen and stokers have all struck, and
run their engines into the round-house at Riverley, five miles out.
There won't be a train leave or come in for the present."

"Is that all?"

"No, that ain't a start. The Model Oil men have struck, and are all
over the North End, shutting up the other shops. They say there won't
be a lick of work done in town the rest of the week."

"Except what Satan finds for idle hands," Farnham suggested, and
hastened his steps a little to the municipal buildings.

He found the chief of police in his office, suffering from nervousness
and a sense of importance. He began by remi