Part 14 (1/2)
”Exactly,” grunted Jake Vodell. ”And how did Adam Ward like it that his boy should go to war? Not much, I think. It was all right for the workman's boy to go; but the Mill owner's son--that was different, heh?”
There was a note of pride in the Interpreter's voice, as he answered, ”Adam was determined that the boy should not go at all, even if he were drafted. But John said that it was bad enough to let other men work to feed and clothe him in ordinary times of peace without letting them do his fighting for him as well.”
”This Adam Ward's son said that!” exclaimed the agitator. ”Huh--it was for the effect--a grand-stand play.”
”He enlisted,” retorted the Interpreter. ”And when his father would have used his influence to secure some sort of commission with an easy berth, John was more indignant than ever. He said if he ever wore shoulder straps they would be a recognition of his service to his country and not, as he put it, a pretty gift from a rich father. So he and Charlie Martin both enlisted as privates, and, as it happened, on the same day. Under such circ.u.mstances it was quite as natural that their old friends.h.i.+p should be reestablished as that they should have drifted apart under the influence of Adam Ward's prosperity.”
Jake Vodell laughed disagreeably. ”And then this wonderful son of your millionaire Mill owner comes out of the war and the army exactly as he went in, nothing but a private--not even a medal--heh? But this workman from the Mill, he comes back a captain with a distinguished service medal? I think maybe Private Ward's father and mother and sister liked that--no?”
Disregarding these comments, the Interpreter said, ”Now that I have answered your questions about the friends.h.i.+p of John Ward and Charlie Martin, may I ask just why you are so much interested in the matter?”
The agitator gazed at the man in the wheel chair with an expression of incredulous amazement. ”Is it possible you do not understand?” he demanded. ”And you such a friend to the workingman! But wait--one more thing, then I will answer you. This daughter of Adam Ward--she is also good friends with her old playmate who is now Captain Martin, is she?
The workman goes sometimes to the big house on the hill to see his millionaire friends, does he?”
The Interpreter answered, coldly, ”I can't discuss Miss Ward with you, sir.”
”Oh-ho! And now I will answer your question as to my interest. This John Ward is already a boss in the Mill. His father, everybody tells me, is not well. Any time now the old man may retire from the business and the son will have his place as general manager. He will be the owner. The friends.h.i.+p between these two men is not good--because Charlie Martin is the leader of the union and there can be no such friends.h.i.+p between a leader of the laboring cla.s.s and one of the employer cla.s.s without great loss to our Cause. You will see. These rich owners of the Mill, they will flatter and make much of this poor workman captain because of his influence among the people who slave for them, and so any movement to secure for the workmen their rights will be defeated. Do you understand now, Mister basket maker, heh?”
The Interpreter bowed his head.
The agitator continued. ”Already I find it very hard to accomplish much with this Mill workers' union. Except for our friend, Sam Whaley, and a few others, the fools are losing their cla.s.s loyalty. Their fighting spirit is breaking down. It will not do, I tell you. At the McIver factory it is all very different. It will be easy there. The workingmen show the proper spirit--they will be ready when I give the word. But I am not pleased with the situation in this Mill of Adam Ward's. This fine friends.h.i.+p between the son of the owner and the son of the workman must stop. Friends.h.i.+p--bah!--it is a pretense, a sham, a trick.”
The man's manner, when he thus pa.s.sed judgment upon the comrades.h.i.+p of John and Charlie, was that of an absolute monarch who was righteously annoyed at some manifestation of disloyalty among his subjects. His voice was harsh with the authority of one whose mandates are not to be questioned. His countenance was dark with scowling displeasure.
”And you, too, my friend,” he went on, glaring from under his black brows at the old man in the wheel chair, ”you will be wise if you accept my suggestion and be a little careful yourself. It is not so bad, perhaps, this young woman coming to see you, but I am told that her brother also comes to visit with the Interpreter. And this leader of the Mill workers' union, Charlie Martin, he comes, too. Everybody says you are the best friend of the working people. But I tell you there cannot be friends.h.i.+p between the employer cla.s.s and the laboring cla.s.s--it must be between them always war. So, Mr. Interpreter, you must look out. The time is not far when the people of Millsburgh will know for sure who is a friend to the labor cla.s.s and who is a friend to the employer cla.s.s.”
The Interpreter received this warning from Jake Vodell exactly as he had listened to Bobby Whaley's boyish talk about blowing up the castle of Adam Ward on the hill.
Rising abruptly, the agitator, without so much as a by-your-leave, went into the house where he proceeded to examine the books and periodicals on the table. Billy started from his place to follow, but the Interpreter shook his head forbiddingly, and while Jake Vodell pa.s.sed on to the farther corner of the room and stood looking over the well filled shelves of the Interpreter's library, the old basket maker talked to his companion in their silent language.
When this foreign defender of the rights of the American laboring cla.s.s returned to the porch he was smiling approval. ”Good!” he said. ”You are all right, I think. No man could read the papers and books that you have there, and not be the friend of freedom and a champion of the people against their capitalist masters. We will have a great victory for the Cause in Millsburgh, comrade. You shall see. It is too bad that you do not have your legs so that you could take an active part with me in the work that I will do.”
The Interpreter smiled. ”If you do not mind, I would like to know something of your plans. That is,” he added, courteously, ”so far as you are at liberty to tell me.”
”Certainly I will tell you, comrade,” returned the other, heartily.
”Who can say--it may be that you will be of some small use to me after all.” His eyes narrowed slyly. ”It may be that for these Mill owners to come to you here in your little hut is perhaps not so bad when we think about it a little more, heh? The daughter of Adam Ward might be led to say many foolish little things that to a clever man like you would be understood. Even the brother, the manager of the Mill--well, I have known men like him to talk of themselves and their plans rather freely at times when they thought there was no harm. And what possible harm could there be in a poor crippled old basket maker like you, heh?” The man laughed as though his jest were perfectly understood and appreciated by his host--as, indeed, it was.
”But about my plans for this campaign in Millsburgh,” he went on. ”You know the great brotherhood that I represent and you are familiar with their teachings of course.” He gestured comprehensively toward the Interpreter's library.
The man in the wheel chair silently nodded a.s.sent.
Jake Vodell continued. ”I am come to Millsburgh, as I go everywhere, in the interests of our Cause. It is my experience that I can always work best through the unions.”
The Interpreter interrupted. ”Oh, one of our Millsburgh unions sent for you then? I did not know.”
The agitator shrugged his shoulders impatiently. ”No--no--I was not sent for. I was sent. I am here because it was reported that there was a good opportunity to advance the Cause. No union brings me. I come to the unions, to work with them for the freedom of the laboring cla.s.s.”