The Conflict [8]
``Of course I could,'' scoffed Hastings. ``Anybody can be hired.''
``I don't believe it,'' said the girl bluntly.
``One way or another,'' declared the old man. ``That Dorn boy isn't worth the price he'd want.''
``What price would he want?'' asked Jane.
``How should I know?'' retorted her father angrily.
``You've tried to hire him--haven't you?'' persisted she.
The father concentrated on his crackers and milk. Presently he said: ``What did that fool Hull boy say about Dorn to you?''
``He doesn't like him,'' replied Jane. ``He seems to be jealous of him--and opposed to his political views.''
``Dorn's views ain't politics. They're--theft and murder and highfalutin nonsense,'' said Hastings, not unconscious of his feeble anti-climax.
``All the same, he--or rather, his mother--ought to have got damages from the railway,'' said the girl. And there was a sudden and startling shift in her expression --to a tenacity as formidable as her father's own, but a quiet and secret tenacity.
Old Hastings wiped his mouth and began fussing uncomfortably with a cigar.
``I don't blame him for getting bitter and turning against society,'' continued she. ``I'd have done the same thing--and so would you.''
Hastings lit the cigar. ``They wanted ten thousand dollars,'' he said, almost apologetically. ``Why, they never saw ten thousand cents they could call their own.''
``But they lost their bread-winner, father,'' pleaded the girl. ``And there were young children to bring up and educate. Oh, I hate to think that--that we had anything to do with such a wrong.''
``It wasn't a wrong, Jen--as I used to tell your ma,'' said the old man, much agitated and shrill of voice. ``It was just the course of business. The law was with our company.''
Jane said nothing. She simply gazed steadily at her father. He avoided her glance.
``I don't want to hear no more about it,'' he burst out with abrupt violence. ``Not another word!''
``Father, I want it settled--and settled right,'' said the girl. ``I ask it as a favor. Don't do it as a matter of business, but as a matter of sentiment.''
He shifted uneasily, debating. When he spoke he was even more explosive than before. ``Not a cent! Not a red! Give that whelp money to run his crazy paper on? Not your father, while he keeps his mind.''
``But--mightn't that quiet him?'' pleaded she. ``What's the use of having war when you can have peace? You've always laughed at people who let their prejudices stand in the way of their interests. You've always laughed at how silly and stupid and costly enmities and revenges are. Now's your chance to illustrate, popsy.'' And she smiled charmingly at him.
He was greatly softened by her manner--and by the wisdom of what she said--a wisdom in which, as in a mirror, he recognized with pleasure her strong resemblance to himself. ``That wouldn't be a bad idea, Jen,'' said he after reflection, ``IF I could get a guarantee.''
``But why not do it generously?'' urged the girl. ``Generosity inspires generosity. You'll make him ashamed of himself.''
With a cynical smile on his shrivelled face the old man slowly shook his big head that made him look as top-heavy as a newborn baby. ``That isn't as smart, child, as what you said before. It's in them things that the difference between theory and practice shows. He'd take the money and laugh at me. No, I'll try to get a guarantee.'' He nodded and chuckled. ``Yes, that was a good idea of yours, Jen.''
``But--isn't it just possible that he is a man with-- with principles of a certain kind?'' suggested she.
``Of course, he THINKS so,'' said Hastings. ``They all do. But you don't suppose a man of any sense at all could really care about and respect working class people?--ignorant, ungrateful fools. _I_ know 'em. Didn't I come from among 'em? Ain't I dealt with 'em all my life? No, that there guy Dorn's simply trying to get up, and is using them to step up on. I did the same thing, only I did it in a decent, law-abiding way. I didn't want