ng of matches, and a puffing, and Barclay
spoke: "I knew there was one place on earth where I was welcome. The
mill is swarming with reporters, and I thought I'd slip away. They'll
not find me here." The parliament smoked in silence, and again Barclay
said, "Well, gentlemen, it's pretty tough--pretty tough to work all
your life to build up an industry and in the end--get this."

"Well, John," said the general, as he rolled up his newspaper and put
it away, "I'm sorry--just as sorry as Mart is; not so much for the
indictment, that is all part of the inevitable consequence of your
creed; if it hadn't been the indictment, it would have been something
else, equally sad--don't you see, John?"

"Oh, I know what you think, General," retorted Barclay, bitterly. "I
know your idea; you think it's retribution."

"Not exactly that either, John--just the other side of the equation.
You have reaped what you sowed, and I am sorry for what you sowed. God
gave you ten talents, John Barclay--ten fine talents, my boy, and you
wrapped them in a napkin and buried them in the ground, buried them in
greed and cunning and love of power, and you are reaping envy and
malice and cruelty. You were efficient, John; oh, if I had been as
efficient as you, how much I could have done for this world--how
much--how much!" he mused wistfully.

Barclay did not reply, but his face was hard, and his neck was stiff,
and he was not moved. He was still the implacable Mr. Barclay, the
rich Mr. Barclay, and he would have no patronage from old Phil
Ward--Phil Ward the crank, who was a nation's joke. Ting-a-ling went
the bell over Watts McHurdie's head, and the little man climbed down
from his bench and hurried into the shop. But instead of a customer,
Mr. J. K. Mercheson, J. K. Mercheson representing Barber, Hancock, and
Kohn,--yes, the whip trust; that's what they call it, but it is
really an industrial organization of the trade,--Mr. J. K. Mercheson
of New York came in. No, McHurdie did not need anything at present,
and he backed into the shop. He had all of the goods in that line that
he could carry just now; and he sidled toward his seat. The members of
the parliament effaced themselves, as loafers do in every busy place
when business comes up; the colonel got behind his paper, Barclay hid
back of the stove, Dolan examined a bit of harness, and the general
busied himself picking up the litter on the floor, and folding the
papers with the pictures of Barcla