in the world, it was evident that the Doctor's
opinion of that work was not high. But it was comparatively high; for
Harvey's opinion of Grant Adams and his work was abysmal in its depth.
He was running his life on a different motor from the motor which moved
Harvey; the town was moving after a centripetal force--every one was for
himself, and the devil was entitled to the hindermost. Grant Adams was
centrifugal; he was not considering himself particularly and was
shamelessly taking heed of the hindermost which was the devil's by
right. And so men said in their hearts, if this man wins, there will be
the devil to pay. For Grant was going about the district spreading
discontent. He was calling attention to the violation of the laws in the
mines; he was calling attention to the need of other laws to further
protect the miners and smelter men. He was going about from town to town
in the Valley building up the unions and urging the men to demand more
wages, either in actual money or in shorter hours, improved labor
conditions, and cheaper rent and better houses from the company which
housed the families of the workers.

"Why," he asked, "should labor bear the burden of industry and take its
leavings?"

"Why," he demanded, "should capital toil not nor spin and be clothed as
Solomon in his glory?"

"Why," he argued, "should the profits of toil be used to buy more tools
for toil and not more comforts for toil?"

"Why, why--" he challenged Market Street, "is the partnership of
society, not a partnership, but a conspiracy?"

Now Market Street had long been wrathful at that persistent Why.

But when it became known that John Dexter had invited Grant Adams to
occupy the pulpit of the Congregational Church one Sunday evening to
state his case, Market Street's wrath choked it. For several years John
Dexter had been preaching sermons that made the choir the only possible
theme of conversation between him and Ahab Wright. John Dexter had been
crucified a thousand times by the sordid greed of man in Harvey, and had
cried out in the wilderness of his pulpit against it; but his cries fell
upon deaf ears, or in dumb hearts.

The invitation to Grant to speak at John Dexter's Sunday evening service
was more of a challenge to Harvey than Harvey comprehended. But even if
the town did not entirely realize the seriousness of the challenge, at
least the minister found himself summoned by Market Street to a meeting
to discuss the wisdom o