The Conflict [37]
as I meant it,'' said he. ``I wasn't exalting my subjects or sneering at yours. It's obvious that you and I lead wholly different lives.''
``I'd much rather lead your life than my own,'' said Jane. ``But--you are impatient to see father. You came to see him?''
``He telephoned asking me to come to dinner--that is, lunch. I believe it's called lunch when it's second in this sort of house.''
``Father calls it dinner, and I call it lunch, and the servants call it IT. They simply say, `It's ready.' ''
Jane went in search of her father, found him asleep in his chair in the little office, one of his dirty little account books clasped in his long, thin fingers with their rheumatic side curve. The maid had seen him there and had held back dinner until he should awaken. Perhaps Jane's entrance roused him; or, perhaps it was the odor of the sachet powder wherewith her garments were liberally scented, for he had a singularly delicate sense of smell. He lifted his head and, after the manner of aged and confirmed cat-nappers, was instantly wide awake.
``Why didn't you tell me Victor Dorn was coming for dinner?'' said she.
``Oh--he's here, is he?'' said Hastings, chuckling. ``You see I took your advice. Tell Lizzie to lay an extra plate.''
Hastings regarded this invitation as evidence of his breadth of mind, his freedom from prejudice, his disposition to do the generous and the helpful thing. In fact, it was evidence of little more than his dominant and most valuable trait--his shrewdness. After one careful glance over the ruins of his plan, he appreciated that Victor Dorn was at last a force to be reckoned with. He had been growing, growing--somewhat above the surface, a great deal more beneath the surface. His astonishing victory demonstrated his power over Remsen City labor--in a single afternoon he had persuaded the street car union to give up without hesitation a strike it had been planning--at least, it thought it had been doing the planning--for months. The Remsen City plutocracy was by no means dependent upon the city government of Remsen City. It had the county courts--the district courts--the State courts even, except where favoring the plutocracy would be too obviously outrageous for judges who still considered themselves men of honest and just mind to decide that way. The plutocracy, further, controlled all the legislative and executive machinery. To dislodge it from these fortresses would mean a campaign of years upon years, conducted by men of the highest ability, and enlisting a majority of the voters of the State. Still, possession of the Remsen City government was a most valuable asset. A hostile government could ``upset business,'' could ``hamper the profitable investment of capital,'' in other words could establish justice to a highly uncomfortable degree. This victory of Dorn's made it clear to Hastings that at last Dorn was about to unite the labor vote under his banner--which meant that he was about to conquer the city government. It was high time to stop him and, if possible, to give his talents better employment.
However, Hastings, after the familiar human fashion, honestly thought he was showing generosity, was going out of his way to ``give a likely young fellow a chance.'' When he came out on the veranda he stretched forth a graciously friendly hand and, looking shrewdly into Victor's boyishly candid eyes, said:
``Glad to see you, young man. I want to thank you for ending that strike. I was born a working man, and I've been one all my life and, when I can't work any more, I want to quit the earth. So, being a working man, I hate to see working men make fools of themselves.''
Jane was watching the young man anxiously. She instinctively knew that this speech must be rousing his passion for plain and direct speaking. Before he had time to answer she said: ``Dinner's waiting. Let's go in.''
And on the way she made an opportunity to say to him in an undertone: ``I do hope you'll be careful not to say anything that'll upset father. I have to warn every
``I'd much rather lead your life than my own,'' said Jane. ``But--you are impatient to see father. You came to see him?''
``He telephoned asking me to come to dinner--that is, lunch. I believe it's called lunch when it's second in this sort of house.''
``Father calls it dinner, and I call it lunch, and the servants call it IT. They simply say, `It's ready.' ''
Jane went in search of her father, found him asleep in his chair in the little office, one of his dirty little account books clasped in his long, thin fingers with their rheumatic side curve. The maid had seen him there and had held back dinner until he should awaken. Perhaps Jane's entrance roused him; or, perhaps it was the odor of the sachet powder wherewith her garments were liberally scented, for he had a singularly delicate sense of smell. He lifted his head and, after the manner of aged and confirmed cat-nappers, was instantly wide awake.
``Why didn't you tell me Victor Dorn was coming for dinner?'' said she.
``Oh--he's here, is he?'' said Hastings, chuckling. ``You see I took your advice. Tell Lizzie to lay an extra plate.''
Hastings regarded this invitation as evidence of his breadth of mind, his freedom from prejudice, his disposition to do the generous and the helpful thing. In fact, it was evidence of little more than his dominant and most valuable trait--his shrewdness. After one careful glance over the ruins of his plan, he appreciated that Victor Dorn was at last a force to be reckoned with. He had been growing, growing--somewhat above the surface, a great deal more beneath the surface. His astonishing victory demonstrated his power over Remsen City labor--in a single afternoon he had persuaded the street car union to give up without hesitation a strike it had been planning--at least, it thought it had been doing the planning--for months. The Remsen City plutocracy was by no means dependent upon the city government of Remsen City. It had the county courts--the district courts--the State courts even, except where favoring the plutocracy would be too obviously outrageous for judges who still considered themselves men of honest and just mind to decide that way. The plutocracy, further, controlled all the legislative and executive machinery. To dislodge it from these fortresses would mean a campaign of years upon years, conducted by men of the highest ability, and enlisting a majority of the voters of the State. Still, possession of the Remsen City government was a most valuable asset. A hostile government could ``upset business,'' could ``hamper the profitable investment of capital,'' in other words could establish justice to a highly uncomfortable degree. This victory of Dorn's made it clear to Hastings that at last Dorn was about to unite the labor vote under his banner--which meant that he was about to conquer the city government. It was high time to stop him and, if possible, to give his talents better employment.
However, Hastings, after the familiar human fashion, honestly thought he was showing generosity, was going out of his way to ``give a likely young fellow a chance.'' When he came out on the veranda he stretched forth a graciously friendly hand and, looking shrewdly into Victor's boyishly candid eyes, said:
``Glad to see you, young man. I want to thank you for ending that strike. I was born a working man, and I've been one all my life and, when I can't work any more, I want to quit the earth. So, being a working man, I hate to see working men make fools of themselves.''
Jane was watching the young man anxiously. She instinctively knew that this speech must be rousing his passion for plain and direct speaking. Before he had time to answer she said: ``Dinner's waiting. Let's go in.''
And on the way she made an opportunity to say to him in an undertone: ``I do hope you'll be careful not to say anything that'll upset father. I have to warn every