ny with real sympathy. You would have thought the entire
press was on the side of the strikers, at times it had almost seemed to
me as though the entire country had risen in revolt. But now all this
was suddenly stopped, and in its place the front pages were filled with
news of a very different kind. "Big Companies Move at Last," were the
headlines, "Work of Breaking Strike Begun." The first ship would sail
that evening, three more would be ready to start the next day, and
within a week the big companies hoped to resume the regular service.
They regretted the loss to shippers of all the perishable produce which
to the value of millions of dollars had been rotting away at the docks.
They deplored the inconvenience and ruin which had been brought on the
innocent public by these bodies of rough, irresponsible men who had
openly defied the law. With such men there could be no arbitration, and
in fact there was no need. The port would be open inside of a week.

So the big companies spoke at last. And as I read the papers, at home
that day at breakfast, I remembered what Eleanore's father had said:
"Don't let yourself forget for one minute that the men behind me are
going to stamp out this strike." Not without a fight, I thought. But I
was anxious and depressed. Dillon had not come of late, he had felt that
we wanted to be alone. As now I glanced at Eleanore, whose eyes were
intent on the news of the day, I saw with a rush of pity and love how
alone she suddenly felt in all this. A moment later she looked up.

"Pretty bad, isn't it, dear?" she said.

"It doesn't look very fine just now."

"Are you going down to the docks?"

"Yes, they'll want me," I replied, "to write some answer to this stuff."

"Can you wait a few moments?" Eleanore rose. "I'll get on my hat. I
promised Nora Ganey I'd run her relief station for her to-day." I took
her a moment in my arms:

"You're no quitter, are you?" I said.

"We're in this now," she answered, just a little breathlessly. "And so
of course we'll see it through."

So we went down together.

The waterfront looked different now. In front of the docks where work
had begun a large space had been roped off. Inside the rope was an
unbroken cordon of police. And without, but pressing close, the
multitude of people for whom in a day so much had been changed, moved
restlessly, no longer sure of its power, no longer sure of anything but
a fast rising hatred of the men who had taken their j