inst certain property owners."

"Yes," retorted Ditmar, "and what then? You raise the rents, and you
won't get anybody to live in the houses. They'll move out to settlements
like Glendale full of dirt and vermin and disease and live as they're
accustomed to. What you reformers are actually driving at is that we
should raise wages--isn't it? If we raised wages they'd live like rats
anyway. I give you credit for sincerity, Mr. Siddons, but I don't want
you to think I'm not as much interested in the welfare of these people as
you and the men behind you. The trouble is, you only see one side of this
question. When you're in my position, you're up against hard facts. We
can't pay a dubber or a drawing tender any more than he's worth, whether
he has a wife or children in the mills or whether he hasn't. We're in
competition with other mills, we're in competition with the South. We
can't regulate the cost of living. We do our best to make things right in
the mills, and that's all we can do. We can't afford to be sentimental
about life. Competition's got to be the rule, the world's made that way.
Some are efficient and some aren't. Good God, any man who's had anything
to do with hiring labour and running a plant has that drummed into him
hard. You talk about ordinances, laws--there are enough laws and
ordinances in this city and in this state right now. If we have any more
the mills will have to shut down, and these people will starve--all of
'em." Ditmar's chair came down on its four legs, and he flung his cigar
away. "Send me a copy of your survey when it's published. I'll look it
over."

"Well, what do you think of the nerve of a man like that?" Ditmar
exploded, when Mr. Siddons had bowed himself out. "Comes in here to
advise me that it's my business to look out for the whole city of
Hampton. I'd like to see him up against this low-class European labour
trying to run a mill with them. They're here one day and there the next,
they don't know what loyalty is. You've got to drive 'em--if you give 'em
an inch they'll jump at your throat, dynamite your property. Why, there's
nothing I wouldn't do for them if I could depend on them, I'd build 'em
houses, I'd have automobiles to take 'em home. As it is, I do my best,
though they don't deserve it,--in slack seasons I run half time when I
oughtn't to be running at all."

His tone betrayed an effort of self-justification, and his irritation had
been increased by the suspicion in Jane