corporation lines. A little later came
the news that he had sent a counter ultimatum to the representatives of
the labor forces sitting in permanence in their hall over McGuire's
saloon. From two o'clock until five the offices of the plant would be
open, and all former employees would be paid in full and discharged.
Those who failed to make application between the hours named would not
be taken back on any terms.

From two to five in the afternoon Wahaska, figuratively speaking, held
its breath. At half-past three, young Dahlgren, of the _Daily Wahaskan_,
spoiled a good story for his own paper by spreading the report that most
of the men had sullenly drawn their pay, but as yet not a man of them
had signed on for further employment. At four o'clock the _Daily
Wahaskan's_ windows bore a bulletin to the effect that a mass
indignation meeting was in progress in front of the Pottery Flat saloon;
and at half-past four it was whispered about that war had been declared.
Raymer and Griswold were telegraphing for strike-breakers; and the men
were swearing that the plant would be picketed and that scabs would be
dealt with as traitors and enemies.

It was between half-past four and five that Miss Grierson, driving in
the basket phaeton, made her appearance on the streets, evoking the
usual ripple of comment among the gossipers on the Winnebago porch as
she tooled her clean-limbed little Morgan to a stop in front of the
Farmers' and Merchants' Bank.

Since it was long past the closing hours, the curtains were drawn in the
bank doors and street-facing windows. But there was a side entrance, and
when she tapped on the glass of the door an obsequious janitor made
haste to admit her. "Yo' paw's busy, right now, Miss Mahg'ry," the negro
said; but she ignored the hint and went straight to the door of the
private room, entering without warning.

As the janitor had intimated, her father was not alone. In the chair at
the desk-end sat a man florid of face, hard-eyed and gross-bodied. His
hat was on the back of his head, and clamped between his teeth under the
bristling mustaches he held one of Jasper Grierson's fat black cigars.
The conference paused when the door opened; but when Margery crossed the
room and perched herself on the deep seat of the farthest window, it
went on in guarded tones at a silent signal from the banker to his
visitor.

There was a trade journal lying in the window-seat, and Miss Grierson
took it up to become