and all this about the weak
points of the crowd. The average stoker reading this would think that
the revolution won't come till we are all white-haired."

"I don't believe it will," I said.

"I know you don't. That's why you're no good to us," he said. "We want
our stuff written by men who are sure that a big revolution is just
ahead, men who are certain that a strike, to take in half the civilized
world, is coming in the next ten years."

"I don't believe that."

"I know. You can't. You're still too soaked in the point of view of your
efficiency father-in-law."

"So you don't feel you can sign this?"

"No."

That day I sent my story to a small magazine in New England, which from
the time of the Civil War had retained its traditions of breadth of
view. Within a week the editor wrote that he would be glad to publish
it. "Our modest honorarium will follow shortly," he said at the end. The
modest honorarium did. Meanwhile I had sent him a sketch of Nora Ganey
which I had written just after the strike. I received a letter equally
kind, and another honorarium. I began to see a future of modest
honoraria.

In the meantime, to meet our expenses at home, I had borrowed money and
given my note. And the note would soon fall due. Those were far from
pleasant days. On the one side Joe in his cell waiting to be tried for
his life; on the other, Eleanore at home waiting for a new life to be
born. By a lucky chance for me, Joe's trial was again postponed, so I
could return to my own affairs. I had to have some money quick. I went
back to my magazine editor and asked for a job in his office.

"I'm ready now to be sane," I said.

"Glad to hear it," he replied. "I'll give you a steady routine job where
you can grind till you get yourself right."

"Till I get back where I was, you mean?"

"Yes, if you can," he answered.

I went for a walk that afternoon to think over the proposition he'd
made.

"I have seen three harbors," I said to myself. "My father's harbor which
is now dead, Dillon's harbor of big companies which is very much alive,
and Joe Kramer's harbor which is struggling to be born. It's an
interesting age to live in. I should like to write the truth as I see it
about each kind of harbor. But I need the money--my wife is going to
have a child. So I'll take that steady position and try to grind part of
the truth away."

* * * * *

"What have you been doing?" Eleanore asked whe