go
calling 'em dirty dogs and saying they ought to be shot down."

"Why, George," she said placidly, "I thought you always insisted that
all strikers ought to be put in jail."

"I never did! Well, I mean--Some of 'em, of course. Irresponsible
leaders. But I mean a fellow ought to be broad-minded and liberal about
things like--"

"But dearie, I thought you always said these so-called 'liberal' people
were the worst of--"

"Rats! Woman never can understand the different definitions of a word.
Depends on how you mean it. And it don't pay to be too cocksure about
anything. Now, these strikers: Honest, they're not such bad people. Just
foolish. They don't understand the complications of merchandizing and
profit, the way we business men do, but sometimes I think they're
about like the rest of us, and no more hogs for wages than we are for
profits."

"George! If people were to hear you talk like that--of course I KNOW
you; I remember what a wild crazy boy you were; I know you don't mean a
word you say--but if people that didn't understand you were to hear you
talking, they'd think you were a regular socialist!"

"What do I care what anybody thinks? And let me tell you right now--I
want you to distinctly understand I never was a wild crazy kid, and when
I say a thing, I mean it, and I stand by it and--Honest, do you think
people would think I was too liberal if I just said the strikers were
decent?"

"Of course they would. But don't worry, dear; I know you don't mean
a word of it. Time to trot up to bed now. Have you enough covers for
to-night?"

On the sleeping-porch he puzzled, "She doesn't understand me. Hardly
understand myself. Why can't I take things easy, way I used to?

"Wish I could go out to Senny Doane's house and talk things over with
him. No! Suppose Verg Gunch saw me going in there!

"Wish I knew some really smart woman, and nice, that would see what I'm
trying to get at, and let me talk to her and--I wonder if Myra's right?
Could the fellows think I've gone nutty just because I'm broad-minded
and liberal? Way Verg looked at me--"

CHAPTER XXVIII

I

MISS McGOUN came into his private office at three in the afternoon with
"Lissen, Mr. Babbitt; there's a Mrs. Judique on the 'phone--wants to see
about some repairs, and the salesmen are all out. Want to talk to her?"

"All right."

The voice of Tanis Judique was clear and pleasant. The black cylinder
of the telephone-receiver seemed to hold