effects, the stupidest workman has it in his power to make trouble. It was
frankly not a matter of sentiment to Bannon. He would do all that he
could, would gladly make the man's sickness actually profit him, so far as
money would go; but he did not see justice in the great sums which the
average jury will grant. As he sat there, he recognized what Hilda had
seen at a flash, that this was a case for delicate handling.

She was looking at him, tremendously in earnest, yet all the while
wondering at her own boldness. He slowly nodded.

"You're right," he said. "You're the one to do the talking. I won't ask
you what you're going to say. I guess you understand it as well as
anybody."

"I don't know yet, myself," she answered. "It isn't that, it isn't that
there's something particular to say, but he's a poor man, and they've been
telling him that the company is cheating him and stealing from him--I
wouldn't like it myself, if I were in his place and didn't know any more
than he does. And maybe I can show him that we'll be a good deal fairer to
him before we get through than Mr. Grady will."

"Yes," said Bannon, "I think you can. And if you can keep this out of the
courts I'll write Brown that there's a young lady down here that's come
nearer to earning a big salary than I ever did to deserving a silk hat."

"Oh," she said, the earnest expression skipping abruptly out of her eyes;
"did your hat come?"

"Not a sign of it. I'd clean forgotten. I'll give Brown one more warning--
a long 'collect' telegram, about forty words--and then if he doesn't toe
up, I'll get one and send him the bill.

"There was a man that looked some like Grady worked for me on the
Galveston house. He was a carpenter, and thought he stood for the whole
Federation of Labor. He got gay one day. I warned him once, and then I
threw him off the distributing floor."

Hilda thought he was joking until she looked up and saw his face.

"Didn't it--didn't it kill him?" she asked.

"I don't remember exactly. I think there were some shavings there." He
stood looking at her for a moment. "Do you know," he said, "if Grady comes
up on the job again, I believe I'll tell him that story? I wonder if he'd
know what I meant."

The spouting house, or "river house," was a long, narrow structure, one
hundred feet by thirty-six, built on piles at the edge of the wharf. It
would form, with the connecting belt gallery that was to reach out over
the tracks, a T-shaped a