as among those who made
obeisance to her as she passed down Main Street in the basket phaeton
between half-past two and three; and a minute later he abandoned his
chair on the hotel porch to keep the phaeton in view and to mark its
route.

"It's Raymer, all right, and not the other one," he mused when the
little vehicle had gone rocketing over the railroad crossing to take the
turn toward the Iron Works. "The iron-man is the duck she's tryin' to
help out of the labor-rookus. She was over there this morning, and she's
goin' there again, right now."

As the phaeton sped along through the over-crossing suburb there were
signs of an armistice apparent, even before the battle-field was
reached. Pottery Flat was populated again, and the groups of men bunched
on the street corners were arguing peacefully. Miss Grierson pulled up
at one of the corners and beckoned to the young iron-moulder who had
offered to be her horse-holder on the morning visit.

"Anything new, Malcolm?" she asked.

"You bet your sweet life!" said the young moulder, meeting her, as most
men did, on a plane of perfect equality and frankness. "We was hoodooed
to beat the band, and Mr. Raymer's got us, comin' and goin'. There
wasn't no orders from the big Federation, at all; and that crooked guy,
Clancy, was a fake!"

"He has gone?" she said.

"He'd better be. If he shows himself 'round here again, there's goin' to
be a mix-up."

Miss Grierson drove on, and at the Iron Works there were more of the
peaceful indications. The gates were open, and a switching-engine from
the railroad yards was pushing in a car-load of furnace coal. By all the
signs the trouble flood was abating.

Raymer saw her when she drove under his window and calmly made a
hitching-post of the clerk who went out to see what she wanted. A moment
later she came down the corridor to stand in the open doorway of the
manager's room.

"I'm back again," she said, and her manner was that of the dainty
soubrette with whom the audience falls helplessly in love at first
sight.

"No, you're not," Raymer denied; "you won't be until you come in and sit
down."

She entered to take the chair he was placing for her, and the soubrette
manner fell away from her like a garment flung aside.

"You are still alone?" she asked.

"Yes; Griswold hasn't shown up since morning. I don't know what has
become of him."

"And the labor trouble: is that going to be settled?"

He looked away and ran his fi