he city into a snarl, and then rob the
houses--pack of dirty, worthless whelps. They ought to call out the
militia, and fire into 'em. Clubbing is too good for them." Conrad was
still silent, and his father sneered, "But I reckon you don't think so."

"I think the strike is useless," said Conrad.

"Oh, you do, do you? Comin' to your senses a little. Gettin' tired
walkin' so much. I should like to know what your gentlemen over there on
the East Side think about the strike, anyway."

The young fellow dropped his eyes. "I am not authorized to speak for
them."

"Oh, indeed! And perhaps you're not authorized to speak for yourself?"

"Father, you know we don't agree about these things. I'd rather not
talk--"

"But I'm goin' to make you talk this time!" cried Dryfoos, striking
the arm of the chair he sat in with the side of his fist. A maddening
thought of Christine came over him. "As long as you eat my bread, you
have got to do as I say. I won't have my children telling me what I
shall do and sha'n't do, or take on airs of being holier than me. Now,
you just speak up! Do you think those loafers are right, or don't you?
Come!"

Conrad apparently judged it best to speak. "I think they were very
foolish to strike--at this time, when the Elevated roads can do the
work."

"Oh, at this time, heigh! And I suppose they think over there on the
East Side that it 'd been wise to strike before we got the Elevated."
Conrad again refused to answer, and his father roared, "What do you
think?"

"I think a strike is always bad business. It's war; but sometimes there
don't seem any other way for the workingmen to get justice. They say
that sometimes strikes do raise the wages, after a while."

"Those lazy devils were paid enough already," shrieked the old man.

"They got two dollars a day. How much do you think they ought to 'a'
got? Twenty?"

Conrad hesitated, with a beseeching look at his father. But he decided
to answer. "The men say that with partial work, and fines, and other
things, they get sometimes a dollar, and sometimes ninety cents a day."

"They lie, and you know they lie," said his father, rising and coming
toward him. "And what do you think the upshot of it all will be, after
they've ruined business for another week, and made people hire hacks,
and stolen the money of honest men? How is it going to end?"

"They will have to give in."

"Oh, give in, heigh! And what will you say then, I should like to know?
How