he had the center of the
stage she said her lines: "Why I don't know a single thing--only this:
that for--maybe a month or so every few days along about five or six
o'clock when the roads are good I've seen him coming one way on his
wheel, and go down in the country on the Adams road, and about ten
minutes later from another way she'd come riding along on her wheel and
go down the Adams road into the country following him. Then in an hour
or so, they come back, sometimes one of them first--sometimes the other,
but I've really never seen them together. She might be going to the
Adamses; she boarded there once years ago."

"Yes,--and she hates 'em!" snapped Mrs. Herdicker derisively, and then
added, "Well, it's none of my business so long as they pay for their
hats."

"Well, my land, Mrs. Herdicker," quoth Lizzie, "it's a comfort to hear
some one talk sense. For two months now we've been hearing nothing but
that fool Adams boy's crazy talk about unions, and men organizing to
help their fellows, and--why did you know he's quit his job as boss
carpenter in the mine? And for why--so that he can be a witness against
the company some say; though there won't be any trial. Tom Van Dorn will
see to that. He's sent word to the men that they'd better settle as the
law is against them. But that Grant Adams quit his job any way and is
going about holding meetings every night, and working on construction
work above ground by day and talking union, union, union till Jared and
I are sick of it. I tell you the man's gone daft. But a lot of the men
are following him, I guess."

Being a methodical woman Mrs. Herdicker, Prop., wrote the copy for her
advertisement and let Mrs. Thurston go in peace. She went into the
gathering twilight, and hurried to do a few errands before returning to
South Harvey.

At the court house Mrs. Thursston met Henry Fenn coming out of the
register of deeds office where he had been filing a deed to some
property he had sold, and at Mr. Brotherton's Amen Corner, she saw Tom
Van Dorn smoking upon the bench. The street was filled with bicycles,
for that was a time when the bicycle was a highly respectable vehicle of
business and pleasure. Mrs. Thurston left Market Street and a dozen
wheels passed her. As she turned into her street to South Harvey a bell
tinkled. She looked around and saw Margaret Fenn making rapidly for the
highway. Mrs. Thurston was human; she waited! And in five minutes Tom
Van Dorn came by an