r listless curiosity in a
single question.

"Any news, Charlie?"

"Nothin' to git excited about."

"I seen you talkin' to Graham a while ago."

"Uh-huh. Graham's a good sport even if he is standin' in with th'
bosses."

"He's only lookin' out for himself," said the spokesman judicially, and
tightened his belt by one hole. There was a murmur of assent from the
others. "A man has to in this world."

"Uh-huh. And that's why we're strikin' now for a livin' wage and
decent workin' conditions. We're just lookin' out for ourselves
because no one else will."

"Don't see as we're gettin' 'em," ventured a pessimist mournfully.
"Graham say anythin'?"

"Said we'd oughter give in. That's what we'd expect _him_ to say,
ain't it? But I was talkin' to one of the clerks, feller named
Stevens, and _he_ says that there's a lot of big orders on th' books
that ain't goin' to be filled if we don't go back to work. Reckon
that'll give old Varr somethin' to think about!"

They contemplated this hopeful scrap of information in a silence broken
finally by the pessimist, who contributed a morsel of personal history
by no means as irrelevant to the subject as it sounded.

"Wimpelheimer just shook his head when I went to him this noon for a
bit of meat. He was nice enough about it, but he says three or four
fellers left town last week owin' him money an' he can't figure noways
how we're goin' to win this strike. He's lookin' out for himself, too!"

"Uh-huh." Charlie's favorite expression of agreement was slightly
blurred by a mouthful of tomato. "Varr owns Wimpelheimer's store. If
he catches Wimpy bein' too accommodatin' to us chaps he's fixed to make
trouble for him." He nodded portentously. "Get it?"

"Seems as if Varr owns th' hull blame village of Hambleton, barrin' a
few things he's only got a mortgage on," drawled another speaker. He
went on musingly to quote a local aphorism. "What Varr says, _goes_!"

"That's right," concurred the pessimist glumly. "I reckon we took on a
pretty big contract when we started to buck Simon Varr!" He wagged his
head despondently. "Why--a man might as well try to buck _Gawd_!"

Charlie's face came out from behind the tomato and his eyes swept the
other with fiery scorn. "Gettin' cold feet, huh? Mebbe you'd like to
git down on your knees an' crawl back to th' old skinflint? The rest
of us started out to do somethin' an' I guess we'll stick. Ain't that
so, boys?" There wa