and to cut labor a bit. In that way, you will secure a profit. You must
cut expense to the limit."

The young man regarded Morton with strong dislike.

"What you mean," he said angrily, "is that I must put my factory on a
starvation business. Now, I don't want to cut wages. It's a sad fact
that the men at present don't get a cent more than they're worth.
Besides that, some of them have been working in the factory for father
more than thirty years."

"There is no room for such pensioners in these days of small profits,"
Morton declared, superciliously. "However, it's no business of mine.
Remember, though, it's your only chance to keep clear."

"No," Hamilton announced bravely, "I'll not cut the wage-scale. I'll
sell to the trade, at thirteen. It's mighty little profit, but it's
something."

Morton shook his head.

"The Carrington factory," he said threateningly, "will sell to the trade
for ten cents, until--"

"--Until I'm cleaned out!" Hamilton cried, fiercely.

Morton lifted a restraining hand. He was again his most suave self.

"My dear boy," he said gently, "I liked your father, and I esteemed him
highly. He was a shrewd trader: he never tried to match pennies against
hundred-dollar bills.... The moral is obvious, when you consider your
factory alone as opposed to certain other interests. So, take my advice.
Try cutting. The men would much rather have smaller wages than none at
all, I'm sure. Think it over. Let me know by Saturday.... The Carrington
factory is to issue its price-list on Monday."

Hamilton was worn out by the unequal combat. He hesitated for a little,
then spoke moodily:

"Very well. I'll let you know by Saturday."

When, at last, his guests had departed, the wretched young man dropped
his head on his arms over the heap of papers, and groaned aloud.... He
could see no ray of hope--none!

CHAPTER VI

It was a half-hour after the breaking up of the conference when Hamilton
at last raised his head from his arms. He looked about him dazedly for a
little while, as if endeavoring to put himself in touch once again with
the humdrum facts of existence. Then, when his brain cleared from the
lethargy imposed by the strain to which it had so recently been
subjected, he gave a sudden defiant toss of his head, and muttered
wrathfully: "Go broke, or starve your men!" He got out of his chair, and
paced to and fro swiftly for a little interval, pondering wildly. But,
of a sudden, he reseat