good again."

John Moore snorted. "And you let the fool get a rise out of you, of
course!"

"I knocked him down."

"And what did he do?"

"He knocked me down."

"Then what?" asked Moore.

"We shook hands and went to work again." Roger grinned at his mother's
horrified face.

"I'd have fired you both if I'd seen it," said his father. "You were
late again this morning, Son. Remember you're docked for that."

"Anyhow," Roger went on without noting apparently his father's warning,
"he got confidential, while we were eating dinner, and told me that if
you didn't give them an increase they were going on a strike that would
make you sit up and take notice. He says you won't give the increase so
the strike's due about the middle of July."

"Oh, the fools!" exclaimed John Moore. "I can't have a strike now with
that big Russian order to fill. That order makes or mars me."

"Then you'll give 'em the raise! That's good!" Roger gave a sigh of
relief.

"Raise nothing! Why, I can't raise them! Roger, you're old enough to
begin to understand these things. The only way I'm able to compete with
the trust is by working on such a narrow margin of profit that it makes
their overhead look like Standard Oil profits. So far they've let my
patents alone, chiefly, I suppose, because my machinery is efficient
only for the comparatively small output. I never have been able to
accumulate much working capital. A protracted strike would put me out of
business. On the other hand a material increase in wage would kill that
Russian contract and I've already borrowed money on it."

"Roger, you shouldn't have told your father that when he was tired,"
said Mrs. Moore, handing her husband his third cup of tea.

"Don't be a goose, Alice," returned Roger's father. "What are they going
to ask for, Son?"

"A minimum of three dollars a day and eight hours."

"Then I'm finished!" exclaimed Moore, setting his lips.

"Why don't you tell them when they come to you just what you've told
me?" asked Roger. "They'll understand."

"They won't believe a word of it. Nobody knows so much about a business
as one of the workmen. And the poorer the workman the more he knows. I
think I'll go up to see the Dean."

Roger and his mother sat late on the porch, while Mr. Moore conferred
with his friend. Mrs. Moore summed up her own feelings on the matter of
the strike when she said just as Roger started for bed:

"Well, as far as I'm concerned, I've never be