scouting won't help--not now?"

"And can't you understand," he replied almost angrily, "that unless I or
some one else who can talk to these people does go out and preach a
definite ideal, a realizable hope--even though it may not be realized,
even though it may not take definite shape--they will never wake up?
Can't you see, girl, that when labor is ready for the revolution--it
won't need the revolution? Can't you see that unless we preach the
revolution, they will never be ready for it? When the workers can stand
together, can feel class consciousness and strike altogether, can
develop organizing capacity enough to organize, to run their own
affairs--then the need for class consciousness will pass, and the demand
for the revolution will be over? Can't you see that I must go out
blindly and cry discontent to these people?"

She smiled and shook her head and answered, "I don't know, Grant--I
don't know."

They were coming into town, and every few blocks the car was taking on
new passengers. She spoke low and almost whispered when she answered:

"I only know that I believe in you--you are my faith; you are my social
gospel." She paused, hesitated, flushed slightly, and said, "Where you
go I shall go, and your people shall be my people! Only do--Oh, do
consider this well before you take the final step."

"Laura, I must go," he returned stubbornly. "I am going to preach the
revolution of love--the Democracy of labor founded on the theory that
the Holy Ghost is in every heart--poor as well as rich--rich as well as
poor. I'm not going to preach against the rich--but against the system
that makes a few men rich without much regard to their talent, at the
expense of all the rest, without much regard to their talents."

The woman looked at him as he turned his blue eyes upon her in a kind of
delirium of conviction. He hurried on as their car rattled through the
town:

"We must free master as well as slave. For while there is slavery--while
the profit system exists--the mind of the slave and the mind of the
master will be cursed with it. There can be no love, no justice between
slave and master--only deceit and violence on each side, and I'm going
out to preach the revolution--to call for the end to a system that keeps
love out of the world."

"Well, then, Grant," said the woman as the car jangled its way down
Market Street, "hurrah for the revolution."

She smiled up at him, and they rode without speaking until they